Wasteland Survival
by TBM1
Summary: Ray is a normal Wastelander. He was struggling to survive, like most inhabitants of the Wastes. Things are looking up when he scores a home in the major town of Megaton. After doing a good deed, he angers someone very powerful in the Capital Wasteland. With the help of some unlikely allies, he tries to reclaim the new life he had started. My 1st fanfic.
1. A Hospital in DC and A New Life

**_Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction that started out as a school project, but becomes more violent and with more coarse language around chapter 8. I added this author's note after Part 12 because I've recently thought about it so hopefully more people will give this story a chance. Also this chapter contains Parts 1&2. I would've separated them added this note when I first posted this, but I didn't know what the hell I was doing lol. Thanks and enjoy._**

WASTELAND SURVIVAL

In 2077 the world was destroyed. All of the world's nuclear bombs exploded, leaving behind nothing but lawless radiation-ravaged wasteland, and the ruins of an old civilization. Humans weren't killed off completely. There were survivors in bunkers and vaults, and many survivors scattered all around.

The year is 2277. Civilization was never really able to rebuild. Small makeshift towns are scattered everywhere. There are roaming wastelanders and roving gangs of raiders. Raiders kill who they want and take what they want, when they want. One of these wastelanders is Ray, who-as we speak-can't believe his luck as he stumbles across a ruined hospital that would make a great shelter.

He's not as lucky as he thinks.

...

Ray pushed open the rusted door which squeaked very loudly on its destroyed hinges. He looked about the lobby. The chairs were torn, stained, and burnt. He didn't want to set up camp here. He felt sick to his stomach and had a bad feeling about the place. He felt this way when he entered most abandoned looking buildings. He felt even sicker because his .32 pistol had no bullets and the trigger was broken. His only weapon was a small pocket knife that he had only ever used to skin animals. He gripped the knife tightly as he walked down a lonely corridor with only the sound of his pulse hum drumming in his ears. He tiptoed, trying to be sneaky in case there were any raiders or wild animals in the building. All of a sudden, he heard the loud squeak of the front door, then a slam as it either smashed into the wall or slammed back into place.

Ray's breath caught, his heart sped up, and his senses screamed for him to run. A voice laughed loudly and the others shouted vulgarities. Ray looked around. Panicking, he tried to find a place to hide. He silently dashed further down the hallway and ducked into a room. He slammed the door behind him and turned the lock. He was bathed in darkness. He fumbled about until he found a lantern on the floor. He pulled a match out of his pocket and lit the wick. He set it on the table.

...

A loud hum filled the dimly lit room and Ray jumped. The lights in the room and in the hallway came on. The raiders apparently had working generators and had just turned on the power. He hesitantly unlocked the door, poking his head out and scouting for signs of the Raiders. Seeing it was clear, he stepped out of the room. He silently closed the door behind him and tried to move silently up the corridor.

Suddenly a raider stepped out of an adjacent room and spotted him. "FRESH MEAT, BOYS!" the raider howled, pulling out a massive combat knife. Ray let out a cry and took off down a corridor to his right. The raider was behind him, snarling threats and laughing wildly.

Ray scrambled down the hallway and around corners. Other raiders had joined in the chase. Ray ran into a hallway that had a large magazine stand near its mouth. He grabbed the stand with both hands and jerked it down behind him, hoping it would block the raiders' path. It slammed into the wall and lay diagonally. He continued to dash down the hallway; he rounded a corner and came across a long row of lockers on the wall. They were the long skinny kind and he hoped he could fit into one of them. He jerked the door open to one of them and climbed inside. He silently closed the door. "Please God, don't let them find me," he prayed silently. He struggled to control his breathing.

The raiders were near. He could hear most of them thunder past, while a single raider fell behind. Panting, he made his way towards the room next to the lockers. As he walked slowly past with his eyes glued to the doorway, he decided to shove the massive hunting knife he held through the weakened and aged locker doors.

Ray heard the knife bite into the metal of the first locker, easily shoving in like the locker was made of butter. The metal against metal screeches got louder and closer. Through the slits in the locker Ray could see the blood-flecked knife in front of his locker. He flattened himself against the back of the locker. He grabbed the book on the small shelf that was pressed against the top of his head, holding it over his guts as a makeshift shield.

He heard the dreadful screech as the knife plunged through the locker and into the book. The knife pulled out, and the raider stabbed his way along the lockers. The screeching finally stopped, replaced by slamming sounds coming from the neighboring room. Ray exhaled, dropped the book, climbed out of the locker, and looked around. Nothing looked familiar; he had no idea where he was. He had turned so many corners and had run down so many different corridors. And the raiders knew he was there. He began walking in the opposite direction, trying to retrace his steps.

...

Ray was more lost than ever in the huge hospital. He was about to give up when luck turned in his favor. He found a hospital directory that had a map in it on a table. He was deep in the hospital, far away from the front door, but with his map he now knew where he was going. He let out a silent cheer, then moved quickly through the hospital until he finally came to the rusted front door where he stepped out and into the setting sun. His first objective was to get as far away from the hospital as he could, then to get better weapons. Seemingly with pure luck, Ray had managed to cheat death once again.

...

WASTELAND SURVIVAL PART 2

As Ray trudged away from the hospital he felt many things. The first was happiness; he had managed to get away with his life and no injuries as well. The second was worry; the sun was quickly dipping behind the horizon and he knew he had to find shelter soon. The third was pure fear; he was still just outside the massive Raider camp. On top of that, he was deep in the DC ruins. In the Capital Wasteland, the DC ruins were the worst place to be. The only way in or out were through extremely dangerous and feral ghoul infested metro tunnels. The only reason Ray fought his way through the ghoul infested tunnels and into DC is because DC is great for scavenging.

And all Ray had to show for his trouble was a terrifying tale about his narrow escape from certain death, courtesy of the Raiders. He wished he had grabbed the lantern that he found in the utility room when he first hid from the Raiders. He was tired of fumbling around in the dark, which was why he tried to avoid traveling at night and metro tunnels.

...

After walking for what felt like hours, Ray came across a small shop. The writing on the door said THRIFT, but the rest was too worn for him to read. He slowly pushed open the door and unsheathed his small pocket knife. He longed to have the comforting grip of the .32 in his hand. He decided he would try to fix it as soon as he didn't have murderous psychos breathing down his neck.

He quickly gave the shop a walk-through. Surprisingly it looked mostly untouched. It was a small shop and the back room looked like the shop owner had been living there. There was a small bed shoved in the corner, a stove, a fridge, and a radio completed the room. Ray saw this shop as a thread of extremely good luck, a thread that he would hold with a death grip until it wore thin and finally snapped.

He nearly tripped over the previous owner. A skeleton sat in a chair behind the cash register, a 10mm pistol grasped in its hand and a spray of long dried crimson on the wall behind the skeleton. It was a grim reminder of the type of world that Ray lived in. Slowly and carefully, Ray pulled open its fingers and took the pistol. He placed the pistol and his backpack on the counter. He wasn't picky about where he slept, but sleeping in a room with a skeleton with bits of long dried flesh still clinging to its bones was out of the question. He dragged the skeleton to the tiny bathroom/utility room that was located in a door behind the counter. Ray walked back out into the shop part of the small thrift store and locked the front door.

...

Ray was disappointed that the shop contained mostly clothes, books, and random odds and ends. He found a few useful things. He found two fission batteries which would fit the bulky flashlight which he found beneath the counter.

He also found a large combat knife, a new pair of hiking boots (which were surprisingly comfy), a pair of scissors, and a small hot plate. The clothes were mostly Pre-War clothes that would offer little in the way of protection, but Ray decided to take some to expand his wardrobe. He picked the lock on the register and found only useless Pre-War money.

Finally he made his way to the back room to raid the fridge. The fridge was filled with a lot of canned goods, which made him incredibly happy. The other food in the fridge was perishables which had gone bad long ago and left a stench comparable to that of death. He gagged and grabbed the canned goods and quickly made his way back to the register. At the sight of all the canned food, Ray's stomach let out an obnoxiously loud rumble which made him quietly chuckle to himself.

...

Ray's stomach was full and the rest of the canned goods were safely nestled in his backpack. He had just finished fixing his .32, and he suddenly realized how tired he was. He grabbed his backpack and walked to the back room where he collapsed on the bed and instantly fell asleep.

...

Ray pried his eyes open and was glad he woke up still alive and without someone standing by him with a knife to his throat or a gun to his head. He hauled himself out of the bed and blinked the sleep from his eyes. He gathered his things and walked out into the main shop area.

One of his goals today was to cut his hair and beard with the scissors that he found. His black hair now hung in his eyes and his 5 0'clock shadow had grown into a short beard. The look of it didn't really bother him; it was how hot it was. Plus his hair obscured his vision a little. He walked into the bathroom where the skeleton lay and looked at himself in the mirror. He dug through his pack until he found the scissors. Slowly, he clipped off his facial hair, being careful not to knick his skin. Then he clipped at the hair on his head.

When he finished, his head hair wasn't quite even, but much more manageable, and his scraggly-looking beard was replaced by his usual 5 o'clock shadow. Now – looking decent instead of like some tramp – he finally left the thrift store, no matter how much it pained him to do so. He took out his worn map and put a red dot where the shop was located. The red dot signaled that the shop was safe and could be used as a camp in case he ever found himself in this area again. Not that he planned on coming back to this area any time soon. He wanted to get out of DC as fast as humanly possible.

...

Ray hated metro tunnels. Hate with a capital H-A-T-E. Not only were they extremely dangerous, they were dark, smelly, and often brimming with radiation. Plus, you never knew what lurked around the next corner. Ray nervously shined the flashlight around. He hadn't been walking for long and so far he hadn't seen anything. He decided to pick up the pace. He kept a brisk jog through the tunnel. He had seen several dead feral ghouls, but nothing alive. It looked like someone had traveled through here recently. Suddenly, someone stepped in front of him.

"Hey local. Don't you know this is a toll tunnel?" The Raider said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, "What do you got in that pack?"

"None of your business," Ray hissed as he tried to move around the Raider. The Raider roughly shoved Ray backwards.

"I don't think you caught that! This is a toll tunnel. Give me all your caps and I'll let you pass!" the Raider seethed. The Raider's hand had moved down to grip the handle of the gruesome looking machete at his belt. Even if Ray had any caps, he surely wouldn't give them to one idiotic Raider.

He considered his options. He could give the Raider his money, or he could fight him. Sure, his pistol was in working condition now, but he had no bullets. He had the 10mm, but it hadn't been fired in who knows how long; plus taking into consideration of the fact that it may have no ammo as well. His switchblade would be no match for the Raider's machete.

He was hesitant about killing the Raider though. Even though anyone who lived in the Wastes would surely have to kill or be killed, Ray didn't like killing people; even if it was murderous scum like Raiders. His father had once said to him when he was just a boy that when you kill someone, you take his most valuable asset, life. You take everything he was, is, or could've been. It was a lesson that stuck with Ray, and made him avoid confrontations with people. In the Wastes, some people would try to kill you just for looking at them funny.

"I don't have any caps! Even if I did, I wouldn't give them to you!" Ray snarled back, whipping out the switchblade. He tried to add as much venom to his voice as possible, with hopes of scaring the Raider off.

The Raider burst out laughing. "Are you serious?!" He nearly doubled over laughing, "What are you gonna do with that? Kill me?"He laughed louder before suddenly becoming deadly calm. "That's fine. I can pry what you have off your rotting corpse."

With that, the Raider grabbed the machete from his belt and swung at Ray's head. Ray rolled out of the way and grabbed the 10mm from the holster at his belt. He fired once and in the illumination from the gunshot he could see his bullet hit its target, the Raider's leg. The Raider cried out and fell to his good knee. He began screaming threats littered with more curse words than Ray could imagine. To Ray's shock, the Raider dragged himself across the floor, leaving a bloody swear and still swinging the machete at Ray's legs. Ray shot again and hit the Raider's arm that held the machete. The machete clattered to the floor and the Raider spewed another torrent of curses.

Ray scooped up the machete.

"I'm sorry." Ray quickly muttered to the Raider.

"You're going to be sorry when I get up!"

The Raider snarled, spitting the last word like it was the foulest curse he could think of. Instead of dignifying that with a response, Ray shoved the machete through his belt loop – where it fit like a glove – and jogged further down the tunnel. His screams of rage echoed, following Ray down the tunnel. Ray silently prayed that the Raider didn't have buddies in here.

...

Luckily, the Raider was alone in the tunnels and Ray didn't run into much trouble, except for a few Radroaches and a few feral ghouls. Ray sighed with relief as he saw bright sunlight at the end of the tunnel that lay before him. He dashed towards the light, eager to get out of the creepy tunnels. He shoved open the metal, fence-like gate and into the bright sunlight. The sun was almost to the other horizon.

Ray sighed as he realized that it had taken him almost all day to navigate the stupid tunnels. He then realized that he wasn't too surprised because he had gotten lost many times. He had taken wrong turns and hit dead ends several times. The dead ends were tunnels that were either blocked by rubble or by a huge amount of radiation that made his skin tingle and he wouldn't walk through unless he wanted to be a ghoul. Not that he had anything against ghouls; he just didn't want to be one. Ray had met many ghouls that were alive Pre-War. It made him envious of these walking antiques because he had always wanted to see what it would be like to live in the Old World.

...

Ray trekked through the Wastes, dust gently swirling at his feet as the setting sun beat down on him. He was terribly thirsty. The only thing he had to drink was a measly bit of Nuka-Cola. The fridge back at the thrift store unsurprisingly didn't have anything to drink. The only puddles of water that Ray saw on the ground were terribly dirty and wouldn't be safe to drink even if he boiled it. Ray downed the painstakingly small amount of Nuka-Cola that was left in the bottle. He sucked down absolutely every drop of the soda and, to his dismay, after a few minutes his mouth once again became as dry as cotton. He would kill for just one mouthful of absolutely purified, radiation free water. He hoped that he wouldn't suffer from dehydration again.

The last time he did, he thought he had gone mad. It had gotten so bad that he was hallucinating, and after running around for a few hours thinking that he was being chased by a pack of dogs, he had run into a caravan who gave him some dirty water and watched over him while the water worked its way into his system. He chuckled quietly to himself as he remembered the caravan guards asking him if he was insane. He then stopped when he realized how bad it could have been.

...

After walking along a ruined highway for a few hours, Ray decided to make camp by an old burnt-out car. He scanned the surrounding area and was glad to find that all was quiet. He plopped down on the ground and pulled out the hot plate and a can of pork and beans. He hated pork and beans but beggars can't be choosers, another lesson his father had taught him. After he finished his meal, he pitched the can aside and wished that he had something to rinse the taste out of this mouth. He dug through his pack, looking for something, anything, to drink. He sighed in defeat. He stood up, turned around, and pulled open the back door of the car. He peered inside. It wasn't too bad compared to some of the places he'd slept. There was a bit of dust inside but that was to be expected after 200 years. Thankfully there were no corpses or skeletons. He climbed inside, closed the door, laid his head on his pack, and fell asleep.

...

Ray awoke to a strange snuffling sound. It was strangely familiar. Ray opened his eyes and looked out the window, greeted by the early morning sun and the sight of a Yao Guai standing outside of the car. The Yao Guai snuffled lazily around the car. Ray's hand went into a death grip on the 10mm pistol, his heart beating like a kick drum. The 10mm wouldn't do a thing to the massive beast. Ray contemplated shooting himself with it if the Yao Guai found him. The Yao Guai licked the inside of the pork and beans can and came closer to the car.

Ray's heart beat so loud that he was pretty sure that the Yao Guai would hear it and rip the car open and tear him apart. The beast walked right up to the car and sniffed the door right where Ray had leaned when he had his meal. A prickling feeling traveled up his spine when he realized the Yao Guai would likely have its meal there too.

The Yao Guai stopped sniffing and a low growl slowly built in its throat. The growl evolved into a roar. The Yao Guai stood on its hind legs and slammed its paws on the door. Ray felt the car begin to shake as the Yao Guai ripped at the door. Ray let out a yelp and grabbed his bag, somehow managing to sling it on his back. After that task was complete, Ray struggled to get the door opposite the Yao Guai open. He finally managed to get the door to slam open as the one behind him was torn off.

Ray jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He looked back, noting with shock that the Yao Guai was inside the car where he had been peacefully sleeping just moments ago. The unpredictability of the Wastes never failed to shock Ray. One moment you're sleeping, the next you're being eaten alive by a mutated bear.

The Yao Guai struggled to get out of the car. He couldn't go backwards and he couldn't turn around, so his only choice was to go forward. The beast clawed at the door. Ray knew the old, rusted metal wouldn't hold for long. He had to get away, there was no way he could fight the Yao Guai. All he had was a measly 10mm, and even if his .32 had bullets it wouldn't take down the beast. His switchblade might be useful if he could cut a main vein or artery, but there was no way he was getting close enough to try that.

Ray decided his best choice was to hide. It didn't help that he was in the middle of nowhere. He did not want to hide in another car; if the Yao Guai got in Ray might not be able to get out this time. Ray began to panic, until he spotted a small building further down the highway.

The tall sign stood, topped with a globe. He could hardly make the words out in the early morning light, but he managed to make out that it said POSEIDON ENERGY as he sprinted towards it. The Yao Guai finally ripped through the door and let out an angry roar. It hauled its massive self through the small door opening and took off after Ray. Its heavy paws thudded on the concrete and made Ray's heavy boots slamming on the ground seem very quiet in comparison. The beast was quickly catching up to Ray, but he was almost to the gas station. Ray pulled out his 10mm and took a potshot at the creature, hoping to buy himself some time. The bullet hit the beast in the eye, making him slow drastically. It let out a bellow of rage and agony as blood trickled from its eye socket.

When Ray finally reached the heavy roll-up door he slid his fingers underneath the metal and hauled it up. Ray hurried inside and slammed the door behind him. He panted heavily, ignoring the pain in his side as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't remember ever running that fast, not even when the Raiders were chasing him. He'd gladly take on twenty Raiders instead of a Yao Guai. He had encountered plenty of Yao Guai, but as soon as he saw their big lumbering shapes, he'd give them a wide berth.

Ray had even been lucky enough to kill two in his life. The first time was an experience he never wanted to think of again. But the second wasn't as traumatic. He had killed the second with a hunting rifle that he had been lucky enough to find. A while after killing the massive beast though, the old and decayed rifle somehow managed to snap in half.

Ray walked into the shop area of the gas station and made sure that the front door was secure. Luckily, it was a heavy metal one instead of the glass ones that many gas stations tended to have. The glass ones were useless and had been smashed long ago. This particular gas station had boards over the windows and a single heavy aisle pushed against the door. Ray felt like a cornered rat. If the Yao Guai got inside, he would have no where to run. And even if he could get away, there was no way that Ray could outrun it. Suddenly, something heavy slammed into the roll-up metal door.

The Yao Guai was angrier than ever, and it was dead-set on killing the person that shot it in the face. Ray nervously paced around the small garage area of the gas station. The Yao Guai slammed into the door again and again. Large dents appeared with every hit. This is it, Ray thought to himself, this is how it all ends.

Just like Mom and Dad. His mind was trying to dredge up the memory that had made him leave home to wander the Wastes at only 17, but he managed to shove the thought back down as the door emitted a shudder and a loud pop as it began to give way. The Yao Guai shoved its paw through the thin metal, its claws tearing it like flesh.

Ray pulled out his switchblade and stabbed it deep into the beast's paw. It let out a pained and angry roar, lashing out at Ray with its paw. His switchblade flew out, clattering to his feet. He managed to duck under the paw and grab his blade just as the door tore through and Ray was face to face with the snarling snout of the mutated bear.

Its rancid breath gently blew his hair back as its sickly yellow eyes bored into his. Then it was on him. Ray struggled with the Yao Guai. He slashed at its paws when it tried to rip into him. The Yao Guai slammed its paw into Ray's face. Its claws caught his jaw and part of his throat. Ray cried out and with a sudden burst of adrenaline-fueled power, shoved the knife forward and plunged it into the beast's thick neck. The Yao Guai let out a final mournful whine and fell forward, crushing Ray beneath its great bulk.

The sudden pressure of the beast on Ray forced the air from his lungs. He couldn't draw any more air into his lungs. Its blood quickly spilled out, covering his chest and trickling towards his face.

He let out loud inarticulate cries for help, but his pleas were useless, lost in the swirling dust of the Wasteland.

Ray pushed with his arms and legs. Finally, after what felt like hours, he managed to pull himself out from underneath the beast. He gasped for air and wiped his bloody switchblade on his blood soaked shirt. He then he holstered his pistol and sheathed the knife. Then he was hit with the pain of the wound on his face and neck. He gently touched it with his fingertips; he pulled his hand back and examined the crimson on his fingers. He felt the ragged slashes and knew that he had to tend it before infection set in.

He rushed through the gas station looking for a first aid kit. He finally found one in the bathroom. He pulled it open and pulled out the rubbing alcohol. He dumped some on the rag he kept in his pack and thoroughly cleaned the wound. He grabbed the Stim-Pak and injected it into different parts of the wound. Then he grabbed the bandages and put them over the wound, securing them with medical tape.

...

Ray trekked away from the gas station, probably looking like something out of a horror movie. His own blood – as well as the Yao Guai's – soaked his shirt.

He wanted a shower and a drink. His mouth was terribly dry again. He began to feel horrible. Everything hurt, his face throbbed, and his mouth felt like he'd been eating nothing but cotton.

...

Ray walked for a long time, some part of his subconscious aware that he had lost a lot of blood and he was quickly becoming dehydrated. Where was he going again? Ray suddenly collapsed. He knew he was dehydrated, but he wasn't seeing hallucinations quite yet. He lay there, baking in the hot sun as everything gradually went black.

Something was pulling at Ray's body. If the vultures were going to eat him, they could at least have the courtesy to wait until he was all the way dead. He grunted and flapped his arm at them.

"Why won't he wake up? Is he dead?" a female voice asked, sounding somewhat scared. She sounded like a little girl.

"Nope. Boy has lost a lot of blood but he ain't dead yet," a gruff male voice said. He sounded like an older man.

"What's with the stuff on his face?" the girl asked. It was definitely a little girl.

The old man grunted. "Bandages. Something got him good and he tried to bandage it himself. We need to get him to the doctor in Rivet City." He felt the things pulling at his body again and the vague sensation of being picked up before be blacked out again.

...

Ray slowly faded back to consciousness. When he managed to wrench his eyes open, he lay on a medical table in a metal room that looked like the inside of a ship. Was he in Rivet City now? He'd heard that Rivet City was a huge ship, but he had never been there. He looked around the room. It was definitely a doctor's office. Anatomy posters hung on the walls, medical instruments lay on a desk, and obviously there was the medical table he laid on.

He tried to sit up with a loud groan, falling back on the table when his head swam dizzily.

"He's awake!" The little girl's voice cried out from behind him. She startled Ray. He thought he was alone in the room. He tried to look behind him to see where the little girl was. As soon as he looked at her, she turned and dashed from the room. She returned a few minutes later with an old man, probably in his 60's, and another tired looking man with glasses and white hair. A lab coat completed his look.

"Good," lab coat said, "now we can get some more water into you. I'm Doctor Preston."

"I'm Chuck. You're lucky that Sara and I found you when we did. You were soaked in blood and really dehydrated," the other man said.

"How did you get me here?" Ray croaked as he took the cup of water that Doctor Preston offered him. He chugged it quickly.

"Our Brahmin hauled you here on its back," Chuck said.

"I can't thank you enough," Ray managed to gasp.

"No problem. What were you doing all the way out there anyway? You were in the middle of nowhere, and in Yao Guai territory," Chuck responded.

"I wander. I just roam the Wastes," Ray responded.

"Why in the world would you do that? Either you're looking for adventure or you've got a death wish," Chuck asked.

"I really don't know. I guess both," Ray said with a small chuckle.

"I bet you always have to come back to town for medical treatment?" Chuck said sarcastically.

Ray laughed. "Not usually. I never go to towns. I've had a string of bad luck. Walked right into a hospital full of Raiders, was in DC, Yao Guai found my camp and chased me into a garage, and dehydration on top of all that."

"Wow. Why don't you settle down then? Get a house in Megaton, or a room here. The only thing you'll find in the wastes is death. I used to be an adventurer like you; then I got captured by some Raiders. After they tortured me and robbed me blind, they left me for dead. I took that as God's way of telling me that I needed to quit. I was getting too old for that anyway," Chuck said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Ray thought about it for a moment. He probably should get a permanent residence somewhere. Everyone needs a place to come home to at the end of the day. And obviously, he could keep all of his possessions there. For too long he had been traveling with just the possessions on his back; plus if he was ever carrying too much, he would have to leave things behind in the Wastes, where he would probably never see them again.

"You're right. Even though I'm definitely not giving up adventuring, but it would be nice to have a home. I'm 24; it's about time that I got my own place," Ray said with a light sigh.

"Good deal. And, how about we give you some supplies before you go? I saw your supplies and if you go back out there you're just going to starve or dehydrate. Again," Chuck said.

"I couldn't do that. It wouldn't feel right," Ray said.

Chuck sighed. "Look, it's never a surprise to come across a dead Wastelander. They go out there and think they are invincible, and then they drop dead a few days later. I try to help as many people as I can and it wouldn't feel right for me if I walk outside this city and find you dead."

"Ok," Ray finally said. Chuck motioned for Ray to follow him. Ray began to get up from the medical table when he realized that his clothes were no longer spattered in gore.

"I had your clothes washed. I'm pretty sure that you didn't want to walk around looking like a serial killer or something. All the blood didn't come out, but it's better than before. And don't worry about payment, I didn't have to do much, other than stitch your face up and give you plenty of water," Dr. Preston said.

"Thanks," Ray replied.

"No problem. Don't go and get mauled again," Dr. Preston joked.

"No promises," Ray said with a laugh. Ray followed Chuck and Sara out of the room and out onto the deck of the ship. Chuck's Brahmin stood outside. Chuck pulled out several cans of food, bottles of water, and finally a combat shotgun with several boxes of ammo.

"I'm sure you need this more than I do. A Wastelander gave it to me as payment for saving her. I don't need it so you might as well take it," Chuck said.

"I seriously can't thank you enough!" Ray gasped. He couldn't believe the kindness of the old man. The shotgun was in perfect condition and even included an adjustable shoulder strap so that Ray could easily sling it around his shoulders.

"You're welcome. The Wastes are harsh, and I just want to show people that there are still kind people out here," Chuck replied. Ray gave Chuck and Sara many thanks and finally had to say goodbye. Ray promised that he would come back to Rivet City, and finally walked down the retractable metal bridge and back out into the Wastes.

...

One Week Later…

Ray walked through the massive front gate of Megaton. It was actually a somewhat large town. The huge metal walls surrounded the town, while many small structures and large structures made up the town. Ray looked about the town, it seemed nice, but then his eyes settled on the massive object that sat in a crater in the center of the town. Ray gasped. A massive bomb sat directly in the center of the town. The people walked around the bomb as if it were the most natural thing in the world. How can these people live around that thing? How can they live here knowing that they could all die at any second? These thoughts crossed Ray's panicked mind.

"So, judging by the fact that your eyes are as big as the moon, I bet you noticed the bomb?" A man asked calmly.

Ray turned to look at the dark skinned man who was walking towards him. The man wore a cowboy hat, a long duster with the sleeves cut short, and a sheriff's star. A massive Chinese Assault Rifle was slung over his shoulder.

"How can you live around that thing?" Ray breathed, pointing at the bomb.

"Stranger, the bomb is perfectly harmless. It fell during the Great War and never exploded. It's a dud. So calm down, I don't want you causing a scene now. Name's Lucas Simms, town sheriff, and mayor when the need arises," he said, offering his hand to Ray.

Ray shook Lucas' gloved hand. "Ray Glasscutt. Nice to meet you."

He raised an eyebrow at Ray's unusual last name, but didn't say anything. "You too. You seem polite and all, but just remember if you steal anything or try to shoot up the place, you'll be dealing with me," Lucas warned.

"Message received. Do you mind if I take a look at that bomb? I know a bit about explosives. I promise I won't try to blow us all up," Ray said with a light chuckle.

Lucas seemed deep in thought for a few moments. Finally he spoke, "I suppose I could let you try if you know what you're doing. But, I'm coming with you. You're new in town and these people expect me to keep this town intact, so any funny business and you know what'll happen. But, if you can disarm that thing, you'll get a good reward."

Ray nodded. He respected Lucas for protecting the town and he understood why Lucas was suspicious. Lucas led the way down to the bomb and gestured for Ray to take a look.

Some time laster, Ray had disarmed the core. "There!" Ray said, a triumphant grin breaking across his face.

"What? Did you do it?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah! This bomb is just a decoration now," Ray said with a grin.

Lucas stared at Ray with eyes the size of the moon. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"I've found mini nukes in the wastes. They work pretty much the same as this thing," He said, shrugging lightly.

Lucas marveled for a minute before speaking, "Look, you've done this town an amazing kindness. How would it sound if I offered you two hundred caps and a home in our little town?"

It Ray's mind a minute to process the offer. "That...would be absolutely perfect," He smiled widely, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

...

Ray marveled at his new house. It was two stories high, with a small kitchen, a bedroom, and plenty of other extra space. It even came with his own robotic butler, Wadsworth. Ray kicked off his boots and flung himself into a chair.

"Welcome home sir," Wadsworth said.

Ray grinned. Welcome home indeed.


	2. A Business Proposal

_**Author's Note: First of all , I would like to thank Andrew . was . here and Shadow knight1121 for their kind reviews :) I would also like to thank anyone who has read so far. Anyways, I was planning on uploading this later on in the week, but I decided I would upload it now because I'm so impatient. So, I hope you enjoy :D**_

Wasteland Survival Part 3

Ray pulled the door to his house shut. He shoved the key into the lock and turned it until he heard the click of the lock sliding home.

"Gob's looking for you," Lucas Simms said as he walked by on his usual patrol.

"Ok then," Ray said with a hint of confusion in his voice. He'd only lived in Megaton for a week now and the closest friend he had was Lucas Simms. He'd only talked to the ghoul bartender about two times. Gob worked for Colin Moriarty, the owner of the only bar in town. Moriarty was cruel to his employees and anyone who walked into his bar. And, according to Andy Stahl, he also pissed in his still. Worse yet, his employees were slaves. And not in the figure of speech kind of way. Gob and Nova were employed to Moriarty until they could work off their debts. This was impossible because Moriarty charged them for room and board, and on top of that he kept whatever wages they made. They would work for Moriarty until either they or he died.

...

Ray pushed open the door to Moriarty's Saloon and was hit with the combined scents of cigars, booze, and body odor. This was part of the reason he tried to avoid this place as much as possible. That and the fact that you were likely to get in a bar fight with a drunken patron.

Moriarty was nowhere to be seen. He was most likely lounging in his office counting his caps, or he was upstairs in his bedroom nursing a hangover. Gob busily wiped down the counter while a bored looking Wastelander sipped lazily at whatever poison was in the glass perched in his hand. An unfamiliar man sat in a chair in the corner of the room. A dark fedora sat neatly on his head while sunglasses covered his eyes. What made him even stranger was that his skin was absent of any dirt or sunburn and that he wore a whiteish-gray pinstriped suit. He looked up at Ray with interest. He waved Ray over.

Ray cocked an eyebrow at the strange man that was waving him over. Gob looked up at Ray and was about to say something, but Ray raised a finger, telling him to wait. Gob sighed with impatience amd went back to wiping the bar. Ray made his way over to the man in the suit.

"Ahh, just when I had all but given up hope. Please, take a seat. I'm Mr. Burke," he said in a smooth voice.

Against his better judgement, Ray sat in the chair next to Mr. Burke.

"Umm, its not that kind of bar stranger," Ray said.

Burke burst into laughter. "Of course not you fool! I'm here looking for an employee,"

"If you're looking to order a drink then talk to Gob," Ray said simply.

"No. I represent an individual with certain interests in this... Megaton. And I'm certain I've never seen you around here before. That makes you a very valuable man," Mr. Burke said with a grin.

Ray decided to play along to see what Burke had in store.

Ray gave a simple nod. "I'm listening."

"You are new to this town right? No ties to its inhabitants? You see, the atomic bomb for what this town is named for is still very much alive, all it needs is a little... motivation," Burke leaned forward a little, the grin on his face becoming a twisted smirk. It was now clear to Ray that Burke had no idea that he had disarmed the bomb. "I have in my possession a Fusion Pulse charge. My employer wants to see this little mistake erased from the horizon. I think you get the picture. Simply attach the Pulse Charge to the bomb, activate it, meet me a pre-determined location, watch Megaton go boom, and be paid handsomely," Burke concluded, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

Ray swallowed the lump in his throat. "What's the offer?" Ray asked.

"1,000 caps and a suite in the best, safest place in the Capital Wasteland," Burke said, taking a sip at an amber colored liquid in his glass.

"I'll have to think about it," Ray said, rising up from the chair.

"I'll be waiting, and don't think about ratting me out," Burke said in a dangerous tone.

Ray swallowed another lump in his throat and made his way back towards Gob. A terrorist was in Megaton. Ray knew that Burke couldn't detonate the bomb, but who knew what damage the Fusion Pulse Charge could cause. Ray sat down at a barstool and steadied himself on the counter.

"You okay? You look pretty pale," Gob said, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

"No, just a little tired," Ray lied, giving a weak smile, "Lucas said you need to talk to me?" Ray said, quickly changing the subject.

"Yeah, I have a small favor to ask. I heard you go into DC sometimes when you need to scavenge. Well, there's this place there called Underworld. It's in the Museum Of History, it's a city of ghouls. There's this ghoulette there, Carol. I need you to take this to her if you can," Gob said, an apologetic tone in his voice. He held out a neatly folded piece of paper with the name Carol written on it in elegant cursive.

Ray took the note. "Do you have a family out there, Gob?" Ray asked.

"Well kinda, Carol's the closest thing I've got to family out here. She's been like a mother to me," Gob said, sadness touching his tone.

"I'm sorry. I'll be sure to get this to her," Ray said, placing the note in a pocket on his worn backpack.

A smile broke across Gob's ruined face. "Man, I can't thank you enough! I thought it would never get delivered! The caravans refuse to help," He said.

"Glad to help," Ray said.

"GOB! WHY IS YOUR ROTTING ZOMBIE ASS GABBING INSTEAD OF WORKING?" Moriarty thundered from upstairs.

"Sorry sir! You better go, Ray. You don't want to see Moriarty when he gets pissed," Gob quickly said.

Ray gave a nod and got up from the barstool, quickly turning around and ducking through the door with one final glance at Burke.

The door slammed shut behind him as he ran straight into a very intoxicated Jericho.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Ray apologized.

"What the hell is your problem? Can't ya see I'm walkin' here?" Jericho snapped. He roughly shoved Ray backwards, his head connecting with the side of Moriarty's Saloon.

Ray gripped his head. "God damn it Jericho! Why do you always have to start fights with everyone?" Ray hissed back.

Ray hated Jericho. The reason was obvious. He was completely wasted half the time and he used to be a Raider.

Instead of responding, Jericho rushed forward and smashed his fist into Ray's stomach. Ray's body tried to double over, but he knew that would make him more vulnerable. He bit back the pain that nearly pushed the contents of his stomach out of his mouth, and decked Jericho in the face. Jericho stumbled backwards and nearly fell over his own feet in his drunken hit Jericho again, catching him in his jaw this time.

Jericho growled with rage, shaking off the blow and grabbing Ray around his neck. He spun Ray around and pressed Ray's back against the thin railing that kept him from falling to the ground, a few stories below them. Ray struggled for air. He was panicking, the ground below was certain death and he couldn't escape Jericho's death grip. Jericho growled and forced Ray further over the railing, his feet had left the walkway now. Ray brought his leg up hard and kicked Jericho between the legs. Jericho let out a gasp and released Ray's neck to hold the pain exploding between his legs. Ray gasped in a deep breath and dropped back onto the walkway, coughing and sputtering for air.

A gunshot boomed through the air. Lucas Simms approached, his rifle clasped tightly in his hands. "What the hell is going on?" Lucas' deep voice boomed.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Ray croaked.

"God! I can smell him from here! Do you bathe in Whiskey, Jericho?" Lucas said. He walked over to Jericho and helped him to his feet. "Get home and sober up," Lucas barked at Jericho, shoving him in the general direction of his house, which was unfortunately right next to Ray's.

"If he wasn't such a good shot I would've thrown him out by now," Lucas said.

Ray rubbed his aching throat. "I need to talk to you about something serious."

"What's that?" Lucas asked.

"We should probably talk somewhere more private," Ray said.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, but followed Ray to his house.

...

They walked in silence until they finally sat down on the worn couch at Ray's house.

"So what is this super serious business?" Lucas asked.

"I met this weird guy in Moriarty's. And he wants me to blow up Megaton," Ray started bluntly.

"You better not be messing with me,"Lucas warned lowly.

"Why would I? I'm serious, he just doesn't know that the bomb has been disarmed," Ray said.

"Well the bomb's been disarmed. Tell him that and this wack-job will probably leave," Lucas said.

"He wants me to attach a Fusion Pulse Charge to Megaton. A Fusion Pulse Charge is a explosive that would cause a chain reaction with Megaton's core. Megaton is disarmed so it can't go off, but the Fusion Pulse Charge can. That Charge is still dangerous," Ray quickly explained.

Lucas sighed. "No matter how hard you try to keep a town safe, there's still someone trying to kill them all," He said sadly, taking off his Stetson to clasp it between his hands, "We need to kill this guy and get that charge," Lucas finally said, his hands clasping his hat nervously.

"Agreed. But if he sees you, he'll know that something is up. I'll tell him that I'll do it, bring the charge to you, then tell him that that bomb has been disarmed, or kill him if he goes ballistic," Ray said.

"I'm ready if you are," Lucas said, placing his hat back on his head.

"As I'll ever be," Ray responded hesitantly.

...

Ray walked back into Moriarty's Saloon and walked directly to Burke's table, his stomach doing nervous flips.

"I'll do it," Ray said simply.

"Excellent!" Burke said excitedly as he pulled the Charge out of his jacket, "It should be pretty straight-forward about what to do, but in case you are thick, like most Wastelanders, Mr. Leo Stahl can hook you up with some Mentats. Tell me when the task is complete," Burke said.

...

Ray carried the charge back to his house and gave it to the waiting Lucas Simms. Then he headed back up to Moriarty's Saloon.

"Sorry Burke, but it looks like the bomb has been disarmed," Ray said.

"WHAT?! How long? Who did it? Was it you?" Burke snarled.

"About a week. I don't know who did it. I heard some settlers talking about it. The guy who did it came and left," Ray lied smoothly, adding a shrug to his shoulders for effect.

Burke quickly stood from the chair. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "Well, my employer will not be satisfied. You better hope that I don't find that you had anything to do with this. You have no idea who I am," Burke warned. With that, he stormed out of the Saloon.

Ray watched Burke until he left town, then headed back to his house.

"It worked," he announced to Lucas.

"Great! I'll hide this charge in a safe until we figure out what to do with it. Once again, you saved our sorry hides. Here's 300 caps. Don't spend it all in one place," He grinned and clapped a hand on Ray's shoulder.

Ray followed Lucas outside and looked up at the stars that had begun to light up the night. Gob's letter could wait until tomorrow.


	3. Battle at GNR

Wasteland Survival Part 4

Ray struggled to force the metro gate shut. The group of feral ghouls on the other side of the gate pushed back at Ray, their hands clawing hungrily at him. They howled in his ears and forced their decaying hands through any gaps they could find. With a loud grunt, Ray slammed his shoulder into the gate and pushed harder and harder until the gate slammed with a sickening crunch. One of the ghouls howled in pain and jumped away from the gate as it cut the ghoul's hand off. Rich crimson stained the rusted gate and the ruined concrete where the ghoul's severed hand lay.

Ray gagged and jumped away from the severed hand. The ghouls continued to howl and gurgle. Ray turned and dashed away from the gruesome sight. "You'd think that I'd be used to this shit by now," he mumbled to himself.

...

Ray was approaching the ruins of a building that had clearly taken the full punishment from the Wasteland, when suddenly a gunshot cracked through the air and a bullet buried itself in the ground just inches away from Ray. He drew his 10mm and turned to deal with the source of the bullet, until he saw it had come from a group of super mutants.

Ray's heart leapt into his throat. His 10mm and .32 wouldn't make a scratch on the mutants. He didn't even want to think about getting close enough to use the machete. Ray panicked, looking around for a place to hide. Then he spotted a Pulowski Personal Preservation machine.

Ray took off towards the machine, the mutants in hot pursuit. He reached it and clumsily slammed his hands into the slider to open the door. When he smacked it hard enough, the doors flung right open. He threw himself inside, the door sliding shut behind him.

The mutants reached the box shortly after Ray, their massive hands grabbing at the door. "HOW HE GET INSIDE?" One mutant asked stupidly. They slammed, pulled, punched, shot, and shook the machine. Ray crouched inside, feeling much like a caged rat, or a canned dinner. It was only a matter of time before they got inside.

Suddenly something slammed into the machine, it sounded like a rock or some kind of small thrown object. "GRENADE!" A mutant hollered in his ruined voice. A massive explosion sounded outside of the Preservation System. There was a mutant cry of pain and sounds of gunfire being exchanged.

Ray pulled out his 10mm. "Please don't let it be Raiders," He quietly murmured to himself. The door to the System slowly slid open. Ray pointed his gun at whoever stood in the doorway while shielding his eyes from the bright sunshine with his free hand.

"I'd suggest that you get that gun out of my face if you want to keep on breathing," A female voice snarled.

Ray slowly lowered his gun and hand. "Oh, thank God," Ray breathed. A member of the Brotherhood Of Steel stood outside of the System. A laser rifle was gripped tightly in her hands, her light blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The Brotherhood Of Steel was the closest thing there was to any sort of army in the Wastes. They were the "good guys" and the Enclave were the "bad guys." Ray didn't care much for politics but he could've kissed the Brotherhood's gleaming power-armored feet for saving him.

"What the hell are you doing out here? Surely you realize that you're in the hell-hole slash war zone that is DC?" She hissed in an irritated tone.

"I'm sorry, I just have some scavving to do and errands to run," Ray quickly apologized.

She sighed. "Well you picked a bad time. Anyways, I'm Sentinel Sarah Lyons of The Lyon's Pride section of the Brotherhood. We are headed to Galaxy News Radio. You're free to follow us if you like, but don't get in the way or try to attack us. I'm stressed enough as it is, I don't need some idiot trying to kill us while we're not looking."

Ray nodded and bent down to scoop up the hunting rifle that one of the mutants had dropped. Sarah turned and set off at a brisk pace that the rest of the members of the Brotherhood group matched easily despite their heavy power armor. Ray jogged after them. A member fell back to match Ray's pace.

"Don't worry, you're in the hands of the best outfit in the whole damn Brotherhood. Initiate Reddin at your service," A muffled female voice said in a friendly tone from behind the heavy helmet that she wore.

"I'm Ray," he responded with a light smile.

"So why are you out here?" Reddin asked.

"Do some scavving, deliver a letter for a friend," Ray said, giving a light shrug.

"That's nice that you came all the way out here. You show some real initiative. The Brotherhood is always looking for new recruits," Reddin said.

"Oh shut up Reddin. We don't any more recruits. This kid's so green he couldn't even take out a couple of muties," a male voice snapped.

"You try taking out those bastards with a 10mm and a .32!" Ray sniped back.

"I'd do it with my bare fists!" He hissed back.

"Fu-" Ray began, but was cut off by Sarah Lyons.

"Yes we know you both are all hopped up on testosterone, but you better calm down before you both get your asses kicked by a girl," Sarah said with a light grin.

The rest of the group laughed.

"Sorry Sentinel Lyons," the man said without any trace of apology in his tone as he gave Ray a hard glare.

"Let's move," Sarah announced to the group. She led them out of the alleyway and out into the open street. A grenade sailed through the air, landing by a destroyed car. The Brotherhood dove for cover. The grenade exploded and blew up the car as well. An enormous blast of heat washed over the group. The Brotherhood rose to their feet, surprisingly unscathed. They opened fire on a building across the street, several muties falling from the destroyed building.

"All clear! Let's move, keep an eye out for signs of muties!" Sarah commanded. Ray struggled to reload the hunting rifle, inwardly cursing himself for this lack of a skill with a rifle.

...

They soon entered another decrepit building. "Geez, how many of these things can there be," The man who had argued with Ray earlier complained, as he blasted a mutant in the face.

"Keep shooting!" Sarah snapped back, as she blew another mutant off of a ledge above them. Ray hastily cocked his hunting rifle and shot a mutant in the gut, causing it to tumble of a ledge. Another unnamed member of their group shoved a new cartridge of bullets into his mini-gun and unloaded at the mutants.

...

A few minutes later they had stepped into GNR Plaza and were met by three mutants hastily firing at the building that was Galaxy News Radio. Another Brotherhood Of Steel group crouched behind sandbags and fired back at the mutants. Lyons Pride easily took the mutants by surprise and soon GNR Plaza was clear of all threats.

"Great job guys!" Sarah praised. Several members were dragging dead Brotherhood troops towards GNR. None of the members in Ray's group were killed, but obviously many holding down the fort at GNR were.

There was hardly time for a breather when a thunderous scraping, booming sound could be heard coming towards them.

"What the hell is that?" Reddin shouted. She turned from the group and made her towards a bus that seperated them form the sound, her hands pulling at its decayed doors so she could look for the source of the sound.

"Reddin get back! BEHEMOTH!" Sarah shouted, her voice full of fear as a shadow fell over the bus.

'Behemoth? What in the hell is a behemoth?' Ray thought to himself.

A massive super mutant kicked the bus, its leg smashing through it as if it were a child's toy. The gas tank ruptured and the lasers from the Brotherhoods' guns turned it into a bomb. Reddin was tossed through the air by the explosion, her neck breaking with a sick crack when she slammed head-first into the fountain.

"Reddin!" Ray shouted. He was drowned out by the massive roar that the behemoth released. The behemoth was at least five stories tall, it carried a massive club that was topped by an incredibly large sized fire hydrant.

"GET THE FAT MAN!" Someone shouted frantically, pointing at a large gun that lay by the fountain. Ray carried himself towards it, hardly realizing what he was doing. He scooped up the gun, which looked like a missle launcher. A mini-nuke was nestled in the gun, ready to fire. It looked like a much smaller Megaton. Ray turned back towards the behemoth, about to pull the trigger, when suddenly it rushed forward, grabbing Ray in its enormous fist and tossing him to the side. Ray held on to the Fat Man for dear life. He didn't make a sound as he flew through the air. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and prepared for impact. The sensation might've even been fun if he was going to be caught by a soft mattress. He smacked into the hard concrete of the ground like an asteroid slamming into the Earth.

Stars exploded in his vision. He had landed on his stomach. His breath was roughly forced from his lungs. He bit his tongue and spit out a mouthful of blood. He pried his eyes open only to see red. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. Pain was erupting everywhere. He let out a weak cry and grabbed the Fat Man. He rolled onto his back which made the pain even more excruciating. He aimed at the massive back of the behemoth and fired. The mini-nuke soared gracefully through the air, much as Ray had a moment ago, and exploded against the behemoth's back. There was a flash brighter than the sun and a blast of heat unlike anything Ray had ever felt before. The behemoth fell with a finishing bellow of death and then slammed onto the ground below.

Ray let his head fall back and let the Fat Man fall from his grip. "He did it!" Someone shouted. There was the sound of power armored feet running over to him.

Sarah Lyons stood over him. "Oh my God. You're bleeding everywhere! We need a medic! Get him inside!" She called to the others. She fell to her knees beside him. Her hands frantically trying to wipe the blood from his eyes.

"Is everyone all right?" He asked weakly, spitting out another mouthful of blood.

"Everyone seems ok, except you and Reddin..." She trailed off.

"I'm sorry about Reddin," Ray managed to mumble.

"I know. It's always sad to see your comrades die. She was too young, cocky, and pretty sure that she was indestructible. A lot of Initiates are like that. They die the most," She trailed off again, "But stop talking now, you're pooling more blood into your mouth."

Several members of the Brotherhood rushed over and scooped Ray up causing him to moan in agony.

"It'll be okay. We're almost inside. You'll be fine," One of his carriers said in a reassuring voice. Ray had doubts about that, but couldn't voice them before everything went black.

**_Authors Note: Is this -gasp- a cliffhanger? Why yes, yes it is mwahahaha! -clears throat- Sorry about that, I couldn't resist! I really hope you liked this chapter, and please review!_**


	4. Muties and Ghouls

**_Author's Note: Well, here it is, Part 5 :) I believe this is the longest chapter yet! It is 10 pages! Wow. I would like to thank beastlynerd and The Konfessionist for adding me as a favorite author and author alerts and this story to favorites and alerts. I would also like to thank Andrew. was .here for adding this to story alerts. Also props to The Konfessionist, Shadow knight1121, and Andrew. was .here for the wonderful reviews. You guys are amazing and I would like to thank all of you for being so great!_**

Wasteland Survival Part 5

The Brotherhood Of Steel rushed Ray up the stairs and into Three Dog's studio. As the DJ, or Disc Jockey as he called himself, of Galaxy News Radio, he had turned the larger and mostly intact part of GNR into the studio. He was just turning off the mic and turning on "Easy Living" by Billie Holiday when four Brotherhood troops, including Sarah Lyons burst in, carrying a Wastelander.

"Who the hell is that? And why are you bringing him up here? You know my studio is off limits to everyone except me and you guys!" Three Dog shouted, standing up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over.

"If you didn't hear all the commotion outside, this Wastelander just saved all our asses and your precious radio station from a behemoth!" Sarah snapped back.

"Whoa, whoa, smoke a peace pipe!" Three Dog responded, raising his hands in defeat.

"Yeah, now if you didn't notice, he's bleeding to death!" Sarah responded urgently.

Three Dog turned his attention back to the Wastelander that they were carrying. He had a massive gash at his hairline and it spilled an endless amount of blood into his hair, eyes, and face. Another gash went diagonally across his torso, spilling blood onto the floor and his shirt that looked like it used to be white, well as white as it could be in the Wastes. His arm hung lower than it should, indicating that it had been ripped out of socket. The knees of his pants were ripped and stained with blood, exposing twin slashes and knees that had been brutally scraped against the ground when he had landed from his flight. His eyes were closed, but his face was twisted up in an expression of agony.

"God damn. Get him in my room," Three Dog said.

The Brotherhood quickly hurried Ray into the room and laid him on the bed. The medic hurried in behind them, carrying a bulging bag filled with medical supplies.

"Okay, now leave. I need to do immediate work on him and you people breathing down my neck doesn't help," the medic hurriedly said as he tore open the bag he carried.

"Thanks guys," Sarah said to her fellow members of The Brotherhood. They nodded and a few saluted before they turned to leave the studio.

...

Ray laid on the bed, fading in and out from what was going on. His head felt like someone had smashed it with a sledgehammer. He could hardly remember what happened. He remembered coming out of the metro tunnels, being chased into the Pulowski Preservation System, meeting the Brotherhood, killing Super Mutants, Reddin was killed at a plaza by a Behemoth... and that was it. What plaza were they going to again? And what became of the Behemoth? Thinking about it made his head hurt even more. There was someone screaming about a fat man, he remembered. Why the hell were the Brotherhood screaming about fat people? No wait...there was a weapon. Yes, that's it. The Fat Man was a weapon. Some kind of huge rocket launcher. He tried to think further but his mind was growing dreary. Before he knew it, the waves of blackness pulled him back down before he could attempt to tread the rough waters of his memory.

...

"So, you're telling me that this guy, this Wastelander, just waltzed into the plaza with you guys, but before you could eat your victory cake, a Behemoth joins the party, so he grabs the Fat Man, gets thrown like a baseball, then blows that thing to hell?" Three Dog said in his rich voice.

"Yes, that's what I told you, isn't it?" Sarah responded matter-of-factly.

Three Dog pinched the bridge of his nose, his sunglasses lifting up slightly as he did so. "Well, its kind of hard to believe, but I'm sure you wouldn't lie to me Sentinel," Three Dog said.

...

Ray woke up again. Where was he? He was still laying in the bed, but he still had no idea what was going on. There was a strange man sitting near his left arm. "What's going on?" Ray slurred.

"Sarah should explain that to you. I'm just here to patch you up. I have to pop your arm back in place. You ready for that?" He asked.

Ray definitely wasn't ready for that, but he hardly had time to respond before the man seized Ray's arm and shoved it into the socket with a grunt. Ray heard a pop and sharp pain shot through the arm. He grit his teeth and grabbed at the sheet on the bed, tensing up and writhing with the sudden pain. The muscles in his stomach tightened and as they did so, he was immediately aware of a new pain blanching itself in his rib cage.

He let out a gasp of pain, his eyes screwing shut and his hand reflexively grabbing at his ribs.

"Oh God, you probably got some broken ribs," the medic said in a panicked voice.

Ray sighed in defeat as the blackness overtook him again.

...

Sarah hesitantly knocked on the door to Three Dog's room where the medic was working on Ray.

The medic opened the door, his face looking worried.

"Is he doing okay?" Sarah asked, her perfectly arched eyebrows knitting together in worry.

"As good as someone who got chucked by a giant mutie can be doing. He's lost a lot of blood so I got him on a transfusion, trying to sew up all these gashes, broken ribs, and I think he has a concussion, but he keeps passing out. I can't keep him awake so there's a chance that he could go into a coma every time he passes out," he said in a stressed tone.

Sarah gave a solemn nod and turned to leave the room.

...

A few hours later, Ray woke up again although this time the room was empty and his mind was clearer. His body hurt pretty much everywhere. He was still unsure where he was or what had happened, but he was positive that he wasn't going to pass out again. The room was unfamiliar, but it looked like someone lived here. There were voices outside, both of them familiar. The first was female, it was Sarah Lyons. The second was male, a rich voice he would recognize anywhere. The voice of Three Dog, the DJ of GNR. Ray thought they had the radio on at first, but his voice was loud and clear and it sounded like Sarah was talking to him. That's right, they were in the GNR plaza when the Behemoth attacked. He must be at GNR.

"Hello?" Ray called hoarsely. The door opened and in walked Sarah, followed by a dark skinned man with sunglasses, a bandana, and a mustache with hair on his chin.

"Glad to see your alive," Sarah said, sighing in relief like she had been holding her breath. She gave a smile.

"I'm surprised your alive. From what I've been told, you took a hell of a hit," The man said.

"Holy shit! Are you Three Dog?" Ray asked in disbelief.

"Yes. It is I, the all mighty Three Dog! Bow wow wow," Three Dog said with a grin.

Ray didn't know what to say. He was somewhat starstruck. Three Dog was the closest thing to a celebrity that they had in the Wastes. Sarah awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Okay, anyways, aren't you curious as to how you got all busted up?" She asked Ray.

"Yes, of course," Ray responded.

Ray listened intently as Sarah explained the events that had landed him in the bed.

Ray's memory was flooding back to him as she explained and he was speechless when she finished.

"That's just... wow," He slowly drawled as his words failed him. He couldn't believe that he had survived such a feat, but his refreshed memory told him that it was true.

"So, how long am I trapped in this bed?" Ray asked.

"Well you do have to rest. The medic said you could leave in two days though. I would stay and talk to you, but I've got things to attend to, sorry," Sarah said with a genuinely sad look.

Ray sighed, he definitely wasn't looking forward to all that spare time. He supposed he could try to sleep or read.

...

*Two days later...

Ray walked through the open area that was The Mall. He had left GNR this morning although Three Dog and Sarah said he should stay a little longer, but he was anxious to get his tasks over with. He needed to scavenge to make some caps. And maybe Gob or Carol would pay him for delivering the letter. He was saving up his caps for a special weapon in Craterside Supply. It was a sniper rifle, but not just any sniper rifle. This one was very special. It had an extended night vision scope with extended magazines and a silencer. It was also quite expensive. She had wanted 3,000 caps, but Ray managed to talk her down to 2, wasn't the best shot with a rifle, but he figured he could try to learn.

He continued to walk across The Mall, his mind had spent the last two days resting and listening to Three Dog. When the DJ wasn't on the air, he would talk to Ray. The mind was certainly eccentric, and he had told Ray some very interesting stories.

His thoughts of his new-found friend quickly dissipated with the sight he had just been greeted with. There was a massive bunker dug through the center of The Mall, a few Super Mutants wandering through, hefting their massive weapons. Ray stuck to the edge of The Mall, near the ruins of crumbling buildings and rubble. He snuck along making his way to the opposite side of The Mall. He could see The Museum Of History, he was almost there. Suddenly one of the Super Mutants turned and saw his shape walking along.

"HUMAN!" The mutant yelled, alerting the other mutants to Ray's presence. The mutant trained his mini-gun at Ray and pulled the trigger. The barrel began to lazily turn, spitting dozens of bullets toward Ray. The other mutants raised their assault rifles and hunting rifles and began firing wildly at him. The mutants wielding super sledges and nail boards began to charge towards him. The few super mutants that wielded grenades began to chuck them. The mutants hadn't seen any action for a while, and they were excited to finally kill someone.

Ray walked along when a loud shout rang out and bullets began to plunge into the walls and ground. He let out a gasp and looked in the direction they were coming from. An army of Super Mutants had opened fire, and they were giving him all they had. He saw that a few had their arms pulled back, ready to throw.

"Grenades," He whispered to himself his eyes growing wide. Suddenly, he wished that he had stayed at GNR. There were at least twelve of them, one was holding a mini-gun, six were holding assault rifles and hunting rifles, three were running at him holding nail boards and super sledges, the last two ready to throw grenades. Ray turned and dashed wildly for The Museum Of History. Bullets bit into the walls and ground, spraying broken concrete and puffs of dust everywhere. The three running at him practically flew across the ruined ground at him, their long thick legs quickly closing in for the kill. Ray's long legs carried him quickly towards The Museum Of History, but the mutants were faster. One with a nail board was right behind him. It swung widely and clumsily with the nail board. Ray heard it come whistling through the air, right for his head. He dove forward, head first, arms outstretched. He hit the ground and rolled agilely, easily landing back on his feet. He was surprised that he pulled that off successfully, but he didn't hesitate to think about it.

The mutants seemed surprised that he had evaded them and gotten ahead; they were stunned for a second, but did not slow their pursuit. The bullets continued to spray wildly, several striking the mutant closest to Ray. The mutant hardly flinched as the bullets bit into its thick skin, but when a bullet moved gracefully through the air and buried itself in the side of the mutants skull the mutant dropped dead, falling through the air like a tree being cut down. The mutant's momentum carried it forward a bit before slamming it harshly onto the ground. This happened too quickly for the other mutants to react. They hit their fallen comrade and tumbled over his body.

Ray continued to sprint across The Mall, bullets and shouts flying everywhere. One of the Super Mutants let a grenade fly. It sailed through the air, landing in a small pothole behind Ray. He let out a startled cry and jumped clumsily forward. He tried to roll as he did last time, but he just slammed onto his stomach. The grenade exploded, showering the ruined pavement and open air with shrapnel. He hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his broken ribs. A small strangled cry of pain escaped his lips, he had managed to avoid the blast of the grenade, but his ribs felt like they'd just been stomped on by a Super Mutant. He bit back the harsh pain that was blossoming in his torso and hauled himself to his feet. He launched himself forward, nearly slamming into a ghoulette when he reached The Museum Of History.

"Hey! Watch it you damn tourist!" She spat in a ruined tone.

Ray ignored the insult and grabbed her arm, hauling her roughly into the museum. He slammed the door behind them, bracing himself against it, his eyes closed and struggling for breath.

She rubbed her arm, glaring daggers at him. "What the hell was that about?" She snarled.

"The muties would've killed you if I left you out there!" Ray responded, still gasping for breath, his left arm cradling his ribs.

"They would've killed you. Not me. Why would a stupid smoothskin tourist care about a ghoul anyway?" She hissed.

"I don't hate ghouls! And why wouldn't they kill you?" Ray panted in response.

The ghoulette seemed shocked by his words. "Well, thank you for not being a bigot like most smoothsk- humans. I don't know why the Mutants don't bother us. Maybe they see us as kin? I don't know, I don't care. As long as they don't bother us, I don't care what they do. Name's Willow, by the way," She said.

"Ray. What was that comment about tourists by the way?" Ray asked with a small grin as he remembered what she had called him.

"Well, face it. You're a tourist. Come to DC, see the sights, meet the friendly locals, maybe take a tour while you're at it?" Willow said with a joking smirk.

"Yeah right," Ray laughed, "I'm looking for Carol. I've got a letter for her," he said, taking the letter from his bag.

"Go straight through the double doors, then go up the stairs to the right and Carol's Place is through the door on the right. She's got a hotel/restaurant so you can rest up if you want."

Ray thanked her and turned to the entrance of Underworld. He pulled open one of the doors and slowly stepped inside. The heavy door slammed loudly behind him, causing dozens of ruined and milky eyes to focus on him. Some looked angry, some looked scared, and some looked like they just didn't care anymore. The phrase 'If looks could kill' suddenly went through his mind. Some of the ghouls that looked at him went back to what they were doing, but many were still staring at him.

Ray awkwardly swallowed the lump that had wedged itself in his throat. He turned and walked up the stairs to the right. He looked at the massive sculpture that was in the center of the room. It was a dark brown color, and it was showing many people crawling over each other to reach up at the sky. Ray slightly raised an eyebrow; the statue was certainly strange. He continued making his way to Carol's Place. A passing ghoul roughly slammed his broad shoulder into Ray's as he passed.

"Damn smoothskin," the ghoul rasped. Ray clenched his jaw and said nothing. And they assume that I'm bigoted, Ray thought to himself. He didn't say anything, he wanted to give Carol the letter and get the hell out of there as fast as possible. He honestly didn't have a problem with the ghouls, but apparently they had a problem with him. He quickly walked the rest of the way with his head down and his mind on his task.

Ray reached the door to Carol's and he carefully pulled it shut behind him. He got a similar response from the ghouls inside Carol's, but he ignored them, trying to focus on the task at hand.

A ghoulette stood behind the counter in front of him. "I'm looking for Carol," He said slowly, wondering what kind of response she would have.

She gave a small smile. "I'm Carol," She said in a raspy, radiation destroyed voice.

Ray gave a small sigh of relief. "I have a letter for you, from Gob," Ray said, producing the letter from a small pocket in his bag.

"Oh! Gob? I haven't heard from him in forever! How is he doing? Is everyone treating him okay?" Carol said excitedly, her milky eyes lighting up.

Ray panicked. He knew Gob didn't want Carol to worry about him, but he couldn't lie to her. "Umm, well. I've only talked to him a few times. The letter should explain everything," Ray sputtered.

Carol nearly tore the letter in half in her haste to unfold it. Her milky eyes flew across the paper.

"Oh, how nice! He's got a good job as a bartender in a nice town under a wonderful employer! He's doing so well!" Carol said in a contented tone.

Ray was surprised that Gob had lied to her, but he understood; it's not like it would be easy to tell your loving, adoptive mother that you were enslaved to a sadistic creep like Colin Moriarty.

"Are you headed back to his town anytime soon?" Carol asked, snapping Ray out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, headed back there as soon as I can."

"If I write him back, would you give it to him when you get there," She asked, hope steadily rising in her tone.

"Sure, why not?" Ray said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh thank you so much! You're nothing like the other humans who have come here," Carol said, a smile breaking across her ruined face, "Just give me a few minutes to write it."

Ray nodded. He turned away from the counter and walked past several glaring ghouls and sat down at a table in the restaurant area. He reached into his pack, pulling out a box of potato crisps. He ripped open the box and began eating the stale chips. Passing ghouls stared and glared. Ray ignored them, looking down at the table, slowly crunching on the chips. He heard them muttering things like, "Damn smoothskins, this is our town!" and "Oh God, I hope he doesn't pull a stunt like the last smoothskin."

A ghoul sitting at a table across the room continuously glared at Ray. He sighed dropping the empty potato crisp box. _Please Carol, hurry up._ He was pretty sure someone was going to start a fight if he didn't get out of here soon.

...

Finally, after what felt like centuries, Carol walked over, holding a folded paper and a small bag that Ray guessed was full of caps.

"Thank you for waiting so patiently. I realize that I took a while, but I'm terribly sorry. My old joints have been aching all day, so it wasn't exactly easy to write," Carol rasped.

"No problem," Ray said, standing up. All he could think about was escaping the glares of the ghouls around him.

"Here's some caps for all your trouble. I hope you have a safe travel," Carol said warmly, gently handing him the bag of caps.

"Thank you," Ray said, returning the smile. He put the letter and caps in his bag. He walked quickly through Underworld, eager to be away from the stares and glares. As the massive door shut behind him, putting him back in the quiet entrance rotunda, he remembered the massive bunker outside. There was no way he could fight the Super Mutants outside. He had stupidly left the combat shotgun that Chuck had given him at home, and his hunting rifle didn't have that much ammo. He wished he had the Fat Man. He grinned as he thought about blasting the muties all the way to China.

"You won't be smiling for much longer, smoothskin," A ragged voice snarled behind him. Ray felt the hard muzzle of a gun kissing the back of his head.

He slowly raised his hands. "Look guy, I'm leaving. I'm not a problem. You don't have to do this," Ray slowly drawled.

The ghoul laughed, sounding more like someone choking. "I don't care! I've had it with you smoothskins, coming down here and wandering around like you belong here! We came down here to get away from you stupid humans, and yet you just can't leave us alone!"

"I came here for a friend, who is a ghoul, Carol is basically his mother and I was just being nice!" Ray said, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Ooo! Well, aren't you just the little white knight? I don't care if you came down here to kiss my chapped ass! I hate you smoothskins and I'm tired of you!" The ghoul spat.

Ray felt the gun barrel push harder into his scalp. In the blink of an eye, his arm flew up smacking the gun from the ghoul's hand. The gun clattered to the floor. Ray spun around, his fist smashing into the ghouls non-existent nose. Ray wasn't surprised to see that it was the ghoul that had been constantly glaring at him in Carol's. The ghoul recoiled, holding his face. He recovered surprisingly quickly, rushing forward and kicking Ray in the stomach. Ray stumbled backwards, pain exploding very close to his ribs. The ghoul let out a mocking laugh. "You can't take me smoothskin, I used to be a Raider!"

Ray was now sure that this fight wasn't going to end anytime soon. Experienced Raiders could fight for hours and not get tired, even most inexperienced Raiders could fight for a long time just because it was so fun for them. Ray released his stomach and drew his 10mm. "Walk away. Now. I do not want to kill you, but I will if I have to," Ray said calmly in a dangerous tone.

The ghoul slightly raised his arms. "Ooo, look out! This smoothskin is so scary!" He said in a high pitched, mocking tone. He then burst out laughing and rushed Ray again. Ray pulled the trigger and embedded a bullet in the ghoul's kneecap. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground. The ghoul writhed on the ground, sneakily picking up his dropped gun. He suddenly held up the gun, focusing the sights on Ray's face.

"Time to die smo-" He began, his finger tightening on the trigger. Ray's 10mm exploded, sending a bullet cutting through the air and into the ghoul's skull. His now limp body dropped back to the ground, his gun clattering loudly.

Ray holstered his weapon. "You gave me no choice," He said to the corpse.

"He didn't," A voice rasped. Ray's eyes shot open wide and he spun around to face the source of the voice.

"Willow! How long have you been standing there?" Ray said, panic leaking into his tone. The last thing he needed was for her to get the wrong idea, then set a city full of pissed off ghouls after him.

"Long enough to see that Crowley's hatred finally got him killed," She replied

"So you know that it was in self defense?" Ray slowly asked.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I knew someone was going to plug him sooner or later. He was an ass to everyone. Didn't help that he was drunk a lot of the time too, let's just say he won't be missed," she said, glancing at Crowley's body.

Ray breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay good. I better get out of here now."

"See you around, tourist."

_**Author's Note: When I wrote the part where Ray jumped and rolled away from the Super Mutant, I couldn't resist yelling "DO A BARREL ROLL!" I'm such a dork lol. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**_


	5. Hiring Some Help

_**Author's Note: I realize that this update was very quick. So, I would like to say that I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I had to do some foreshadowing to show that problems are lurking on the horizon for our protagonist! I tried to make up for it by checking up on Ray with some action. I will try to make the next chapter longer :) I would also like to thank Mr. CJ of Blackwater for adding me and this story to his favorites and alerts, also for his review! As always, please review and enjoy the new chapter :D**_

Wasteland Survival Part 6

He sat in his stiff backed chair, his fedora riding low over his dark sunglasses. His face was, as usual, devoid of any emotion whatsoever as he rose the thick cigar to take a heavy hit. The smoke slowly danced around his face, creating a small fog about him.

Heavy combat boots made gentle thuds against the shiny floors of the luxurious building. Lights that continued to shine after all these years reflected off of the brightly polished black combat armor. Guards dressed in gold painted combat armor led him straight to the room that had been thinly covered with cigar smoke.

The door slowly opened allowing the shining combat armor to step in. He approached the stiff backed chair, exchanging no pleasantries with the man who sat there.

"How nice of you to finally join me. I see you took your time as usual," The man in the chair said in his velvet smooth voice that hadn't even been coarsened by the thick cigar smoke.

"Well, its not a pleasure to work with you either, Burke. Now, why the hell did you call me all the way out here?" The man in shiny black combat armor said gruffly, adjusting the unique combat helmet that sat on his head.

"So nice to see that you can be civil while I allow you to bathe in my caps," Burke spat, his voice losing its pleasant tone as he roughly stubbed out the cigar, "And all I can do is shower you in more. I have a task for you. There is a man who I believe cost me the most important, well-paying job of my career, and I want you to find out if it was him."

"I'm not a damn detective. I kill people, not conduct investigations," He roughly snarled at Burke.

"I'm well aware of that. Either way, you get paid, so what does it matter? If it was him, report back to me to inform me of this, collect some payment, have him killed, be fully paid. If it wasn't him, find out who it was, tell me, kill him, and get paid. You will receive partial payment if you can find who it was, and full payment when you bring me his head," Burke said.

"How much are you giving me?"

"10,000 for the information, another 10,000 for the death," Burke said calmly, taking a sip at whatever was in his glass.

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Why so much? What was this contract that he cost you?"

Burke quickly leaned forward and slammed the glass on the table, the clear liquid inside splashing onto the shiny, clean table. "That's none of your business! I told you how important the contract he cost me was! Its details are of no concern to you!" He boomed.

"Jesus! No need to get your panties in a twist! I'll do it!" He quickly responded, never having seen Burke so angry.

"Good," Burke said with a devilish grin as he leaned back in the chair and raised the glass to his thin lips.

"Where to?"

"Megaton. Ask around, apparently the man that disarmed the bomb is quite the hero there. It shouldn't be hard to learn his identity. Here is who I believe did it," Burke said, pushing a detailed sketch at the man in combat armor.

He picked up the drawing, not even glancing at it yet. "What does that bomb in Megaton being disarmed have to do with your hefty job that this guy cost you?"

Burke's eyes narrowed. His tone low and dangerous, "If you ask about that job again, I will hang you from my balcony by your own entrails and watch you strangle."

He swallowed hard. Surely Burke wouldn't kill his best mercenary, but he was slimier and more dangerous than making out with a Deathclaw. Finally, he pulled his eyes away from Burke's glare and looked at the drawing. The drawing was amazingly done; it looked like a photograph. The man's portrait stared blankly ahead. His dark hair was cut short and his 5o'clock shadow bordered a strong jawline, matched by sharp cheekbones. His lips were neither smiling nor frowning. Still, his face looked tired and thin, as though he were recovering from emaciation. A thin scar hovered near his right eye. Four parallel scratches went from the bottom of his jaw and disappeared with the end of the paper. "I didn't know you were an artist, Burke," He said, a smirk playing around the edges of his lips.

Burke responded with a glare. "Well, I had to learn to draw. You're too stupid to listen to my descriptions."

He narrowed his eyes slightly at Burke. "He'll be dead soon. Don't you worry."

"Excellent," Burke said, re-lighting his cigar and returning the cloud of smoke.

...

Ray dove behind the makeshift wall of the Raider camp, putting away his now empty hunting rifle and pulling out his 10mm. The last Raider slowly stalked towards Ray.

"Give up now and maybe I'll kill you fast," The Raider said sarcastically.

"No. You give up now and we can both walk away from this," Ray offered. These Raiders were tough. Ray had to shoot one of them five times before they finally went down. The next one had come at him with a baseball bat, but still put up an excellent fight. The last Raider was the one he was about to face off with. He wielded a 10mm sub machine gun. It was in rough shape, but it was still functioning.

The Raider burst out laughing. "Hell no! I'm doing this the fun way," He snarled, a sadistic grin appearing on his face.

Ray sighed. "Fine," he said without emotion. He pulled the slide back on his 10mm, a bullet clicking into the chamber. The Raider readied his machine gun, the barrel trained where Ray stood behind the wall. He pulled the trigger, letting forth a long burst of continuous fire. Ray flinched away from the wall a little as bullets began to slam into the wall again and again. The rotted wood began to splinter and Ray had to duck as a hole was pummeled through the wall, chips of wood raining down on him.

The shooting stopped and there was the sound of a spent clip being carelessly tossed on the ground while another was loaded. Ray dashed from behind the wall, firing wildly at the Raider. His legs flew over the concrete, bullet after bullet spinning from the end of his pistol. The Raider didn't make a sound as a few bullets hit their marks. Just as the Raider got another clip in the gun and loaded a round into its chamber, Ray jumped. He sailed through the air towards a metal table littered with various drugs and bottles. He grabbed the edge of the table, slamming it down onto its side and creating cover as he landed roughly on his own side, several bottles breaking and spilling various alcohols onto the hot concrete.

Ray grabbed his ribs, wincing with pain as he rammed another clip home into his pistol. "You still wanna do this?" He yelled to the Raider as he pulled back the slide.

In response, the Raider belted out a torrent of curses while bullets were spat into the table that Ray sat behind. "Of course," Ray muttered to himself as he flinched away from the bullets that were being slugged into the table. This time when the bullets stopped there was nothing. Ray cautiously peeked around the corner and was surprised to see the Raider running towards him, his bandage wrapped feet making no sound. The 10mm sub machine gun was gripped in his hand, his eyes bulging in murderous rage. Ray could see where a few bullets were imbedded in the Raider's torso and right leg. The bullets didn't slow him as he barreled towards Ray like a freight train, indicating that he was probably addicted to Med-X or Psycho. Ray let loose several more shots that struck the Raider, but didn't slow his advance in the slightest.

The Raider launched himself over the table with a battle cry, landing on top of Ray. Ray was knocked backwards, his head connecting with the ruined concrete. The Raider raised his machine gun and struck Ray in the face with it several times before tossing it aside and wrapping his hands around Ray's throat. Ray struggled to breathe, pulling at the Raider's hands, then clawing at his face. The Raider's lips pulled away from his gums in a snarl as he applied more pressure to Ray's throat. His vision was growing dark as he weakly punched the Raider in the face. His strength was slipping. He reached out grabbing for his pistol. Instead, he found the Raider's sub machine gun. He grabbed it and slammed it roughly into the side of the Raider's head. His hands released Ray's throat and he slid to the side, hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Ray hauled himself to his feet, quickly doubling over to hold his ribs as he gasped for breath. The Raider began to stir, rubbing his head and cursing as he did so. Blood flattened his tall Mohawk and stuck it to the side of his head. Ray quickly grabbed his 10mm pistol, spinning around and shooting the Raider in the back of the head. "Sorry," He said as he usually did when he was forced to kill someone. He collected his things and turned to loot the, now harmless, Raider camp.

**_Author's Note: Well, there it is. Am I good at foreshadowing and trying to create a sense of mystery with characters? BTW The man that Burke talks to is NOT an OC and he is a hostile NPC. And yes, if you can guess who it is, I realized that I messed up with what type of armor he usually wears D: Sorry, I promise he will change to his in-game armor in the future!_**


	6. Have You Seen This Man?

**_Author's Note: Dun dun dun! Part 7 is finally revealed! Lol, anyway I feel like this chapter took forever to get finished. Sorry, I had a really stressful week. This chapter is mostly dialogue, but there is a brief fist fight. I want to thank WastelandScavver00 for adding me and this story to favs and alerts, and thanks to Gurab for adding this story to favorites. Thanks to my loyal readers, you guys are awesome ;) I really hope you like this chapter, and as always, enjoy!  
><em>**

Wasteland Survival Part 7

He walked through the front gate of Megaton, the rusted and aged metal groaning as it shut behind him. Commander Jabsco had met with Burke last week. Apparently some guy had cost Burke a hefty job, and he was pissed about it. Jabsco told him to come here and find out who did it, without showing that he was a hitman and investigator of course. What stuck him as odd was that he had to find out who it was and not kill the guy yet. They had worked for Burke many times before, and Burke always knew who he wanted dead. And he wanted them dead ASAP. Burke didn't care how they took care of the target, as long as they were dead and Burke was shown an intact head as proof of the kill.

He studied the picture in his hand. It was a hand drawn picture of the apparent target. He scanned the faces of every settler that he passed, growing more frustrated every time he looked at someone. He sighed heavily and started towards the building that was marked Moriarty's Saloon. He pushed the door open, immediately liking the town more.

The aroma of alcohol and thick smoke welcomed him inside. It was the kind of place where you went and got piss drunk, then stuck a knife in someone's ribs if you pleased. Sure, they'd kick your ass out, but they'll always let you back in to lap up your caps like a dehydrated Brahmin. He walked over to the bar and sat down in a stool next to a man with a shaved head and a goatee He was an older guy, but he looked like he was a drinker who could take a hell of a punch and send it right back.

"Vodka," He said to the ghoul bartender. He didn't mind ghouls, so long as they didn't go shuffler on him and try to eat his brain.

The man next to him looked over, clearly intoxicated. "Never seen you around. You with the caravans?" He slurred.

"Nope. Just looking for an old friend. You wouldn't happen to know him, would you?"

He downed another shot of whiskey, his head tilting back so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. "Probably. I know everyone in this dumb ass town. What's he look like?"

He pulled the drawing from the pocket of his pants, then pushed it at the drunk.

The drunk took the drawing and studied it for a minute, his worn face twisting in rage. "How the hell are you friends with him? Yeah, I'm very familiar with Ray. He disarmed that gad damn bomb, so now he's the town hero, but everyone still has the balls to come running to ol' Jericho when the Raiders come for playtime!" He slurred, pointing at himself with the last sentence.

"Do you know where I can find him?" He asked, downing his glass of Vodka in one drink.

"Yeah, he lives at the first house on the left when you come in through the main gate. You must be as much of a goody two shoes as him if you guys are friends," Jericho spat, turning away with disgust before flipping him the bird.

He gently placed his now empty glass on the bar. He didn't say a word as he grabbed Jericho's still extended finger and twisted it backwards. It audibly snapped and Jericho let out a small cry before spinning away from the man and away from the bar. He swung a sloppy, but powerful blow for the man's head. He easily dodged it, then let loose a barrage of quick punches at Jericho's face. Each swing hit, connecting with Jericho's face in rapid and powerful succession as they slowly drove him backwards, his hands rising in an attempt at trying to cover his face and head. The punches stopped, a last powerful wallop knocking him backwards, toppling over a table and a chair as he fell. Gob's eyes widened in surprise as Jericho fell. Jericho never lost a fight and he only walked away if Lucas Simms showed up.

The man smoothed out his shirt, calmly looking at Jericho's downed form. "Thanks for the info," He said with a nearly insane grin. He turned back to the bar where Gob slowly raised his arms, his eyes wide, his bladder nearly on the edge of emptying itself. The man gave Gob a curt nod as he placed a few caps on the counter to pay for his drink, then turned and headed out the door.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS ALL THAT FUCKING NOISE?" Moriarty roared from upstairs.

...

*A few days later...

Ray sighed in relief when the gate to Megaton came into view. The trip home had taken him a lot longer than expected. His ribs were aching as if they were being tap danced on by a Super Mutant, his legs were strained and tired, his stomach empty and guns nearly devoid of ammunition. He had been using the machete instead of his guns, allowing his enemies to get closer than he liked. He sprinted away from the bigger foes and fought the smaller ones. It still wasn't easy. He wasn't the best with most weapons unless he was riding on a hell of a lucky streak or he was too scared to die. The sudden burst of fear fueled adrenaline was usually enough to make him a sharper shooter or a heavier hitter, but it was still a challenge.

Ray was pulled from his thoughts by the heavy metal gates of Megaton creaking open, welcoming him inside. He gave a small wave to Stockholm, Megaton's sniper who stood on a catwalk above Megaton's main gate. Ray wanted to go home in collapse in bed, but he had to take the letter to Gob first.

...

Ray pushed open the door to Moriarty's Saloon, and was surprised to find that it was nearly empty. Gob was busy cleaning glasses, while Jericho sat at a table in the corner, looking more worn than usual. The radio was playing quietly, echoing some happy tune that Ray couldn't make out. He walked up to the bar, taking a seat and sighing with relief as he could finally take a break. Gob looked up and Ray was surprised to see that Gob didn't break into a smile as soon as he saw that Ray was back. Instead his face looked worried.

"What's wrong? Moriarty being hard on you today?" Ray asked, confusion highlighting his tone as he took out Carol's letter and pushed it toward Gob.

"Moriarty's hard on me everyday. That's not what's wrong. Something really weird happened when you were gone," Gob began, tucking the letter into his back pocket.

"What are you talking about?" Ray said, his brows pulling together.

Gob placed the glass on the bar. "This guy came in here, he seemed normal at first, but he started talking to Jericho a-"

Ray burst out laughing. "Wait wait wait! He willingly spoke to Jericho?" He laughed harder.

Gob didn't laugh, he didn't even grin. He stared ahead, his eyes as serious as death. Ray's smile slowly sunk upon seeing Gob's expression. "He was talking to Jericho, asking all these weird questions. He said he was looking for someone, then he showed Jericho a picture of you," Gob said.

"A picture? What, like a photograph?"

"No, it was a drawing. A good one too, not some typical Wastelander crap. Then Jericho shot his mouth off and gave the guy the finger. The guy just put his glass down, really calmly, then grabbed Jericho's finger and snapped it like a twig. Jericho tried to hit him, but that guy just knocked Jericho right on his ass," Gob finished, his milky eyes wide.

Now, it was Ray's turn to be surprised. Who could be looking for him? He didn't know a lot of people in the Wastes and his parents never told him about any other family members. As far as he knew, he hadn't pissed anyone off besides... "Burke," Ray slowly spoke.

"I don't think it was him. Lucas wouldn't let him back in town anyways. I don't know who it was. I've never seen him before," Gob responded, grabbing a rag and beginning to wipe the bar.

"Still, he could have hired someone. Burke is definitely not stupid. Plus, right before he left, he said that I had no idea who he was, so he must have connections." Ray said, taking his arms off the bar so that Gob could wipe the bar beneath them.

"Well there's not many power players these days. There's The Brotherhood, The Enclave, Talon Company, and Allistair Tenpenny. The Brotherhood and Enclave are all that really matter though. Maybe he's with the Enclave?" Gob offered.

"Maybe. We can root out The Brotherhood. I ran into some of them in DC. They didn't try to kill me and they helped me, so they're fine. Who's Allistair Tenpenny?" Ray asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Some rich guy who started this place called Tenpenny Tower. It's apparently paradise in the Wastes if you got the caps or connections to get in there. I tried to get in a long time ago, before I was enslaved. They hate ghouls and normal Wastelanders, bunch of bigoted, rich assholes if you ask me," Gob said, his ruined face twisting up like he'd smelled something terrible.

"Seems like Burke would fit in perfectly with that crowd. The guy that came in here, what did he seem like?" Ray inquired.

"That's hard to explain. He seemed like a normal Wastelander at first. Wore normal clothes, ordered a normal drink. Then he laid Jericho out, put some caps on the bar smiled at me and left. His smile, it was creepy though. It wasn't that normal cocky smile of victory that most people get after they win a fight, it was sadistic, twisted. Seemed like he'd make an excellent Raider. But, if he was a Raider, he wouldn't have cared about a disguise or provoking someone into attacking him, he would've just shot the place up wearing Raider armor and bringing his buddies. Might have been an independent merc or Talon Company," Gob concluded.

Ray let his head fall to the bar. Great, just what I need. A psychotic company of hitmen after me, he thought. He sighed and looked towards Jericho. He sat quietly in the corner, one of his hands bringing an entire bottle of whiskey towards his parted lips, his other had a finger in a splint. His face looked even worse than usual, his left eye swollen shut, his lower lip swollen and busted. His nose looked as though it had been twisted back into place. "Damn," Ray muttered quietly.

"I told you that guy kicked his ass."

...

Jabsco walked through the immaculate hall towards Burke's room, his shiny metal black combat armor had been replaced by his usual metal armor. It had tall, sharp spikes covering the shoulders while the rest was plain, thick metal. His unique Talon Company combat helmet still sat on his head.

He made his way through Burke's room and out onto the balcony. Burke stood there, leaning on the railing, his cigar perched between his fingers. "It's about time I heard from you. What did you find out?"

Jabsco sighed. _Nice to see you're still being an ass, Burke old pal,_ he thought bitterly. He had a sudden urge to push Burke over the railing, but he ignored it. "I sent one of my best investigators out. He managed to find that our target is a man named Ray. He is the guy in your picture and he lives in Megaton. The first house on the left." Jabsco said, a smooth grin of self satisfaction growing on his face.

Burke spun around. "Don't look so satisfied. The job isn't done yet. You shall receive payment when he is dead."

Rage filled Jabsco's veins. "Hold up! We had a deal! You pay me half now, you lying sack of Brahmin sh-"

"And your surprised I lied?" Burke interrupted, taking a puff from his cigar as his grin grew into a full grown smirk, "It comes with being under my employ, dear boy. Maybe you're even stupider than I initially thought."

Jabsco rushed forward, grabbing Burke by the collar of his jacket. He shoved his Scoped .44 magnum in Burke's face. "You kill me, you won't earn a single cap, and your entire organization will be destroyed by my employer," Burke said with a smug grin, taking a puff from his cigar and blowing the smoke in Jabsco's face.

Jabsco's anger ebbed slightly with the truth in Burke's words. Then there was a chorus of guns being cocked behind him. "Checkmate," Burke said, exhaling more smoke. Jabsco sighed, holstering his weapon and dropping Burke back to his feet.

"Please gentlemen, allow us to privately discuss business," Burke said, waving his cigar hand dismissively at the security guards. The lead guard nodded in response and led the team away. "So, my offer still stands now that you are familiar with the target?"

"Yeah," Jabsco said, looking at his boots. Burke was a lying, crooked sack of crap, but the offer was too good to pass up. "I'll send a team for him soon."

_**Author's Note: Blam! There it is! I feel this chapter was somewhat short, but it is still longer than the last one.**_


	7. House Call

_**Author's Note: Once again I feel like this chapter took forever. I'm really sorry if it did. No one to thank this time except my usual reviewers. You guys really are awesome and your kind words keep me writing! This chapter is mostly dialogue but it introduces a surprising ally, not OC, and Ray has a little meet and greet with a certain group of hitmen. You know the drill, please review! **_

Wasteland Survival Part 8

*A week later...

Ray lay awake, staring into the dark space above his bed in his darkened house. It was about 3 A.M. But, he couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Burke and the strange man that Gob had told him about. He had been trying to find any information possible, but no one was of any help. He wasn't sure whether the man was one of Burke's goons or a member of Talon Company.

Ray sighed any turned onto his right side. He didn't have any connections in the Wastes outside of Megaton, and no one in Megaton (except Gob, of course) knew anything about Talon Company or Burke. Besides the fact that Talon Company was a group of heartless opportunists who would do anything to make some caps.

Ray clenched his jaw in frustration. Wait, what about... Suddenly Ray's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar creaking sound. It sounded like the front door of his home. Ray quickly sat up. There was a barely noticeable click as the lock turned back, sliding the deadbolt home. Ray slowly lifted himself out of bed, reaching to the nearby desk and pulling out his 10mm. Panic was beginning to blanch itself in his chest.

Ray flicked off the safety on the gun and slowly and silently made his way to the top of the stairs. He peered into the darkness, seeing three humanoid shapes. The dim kitchen light that was always on, cast its low light over them. Ray could make out black combat armor and the shapes of the guns they were holding. One appeared to be holding an assault rifle, the next a 10mm, and the last brandishing a combat knife. Ray's fear grew. They were blocking the door, and there was no way he could get around them.

He turned and crept back into his room. Take out the biggest one first, he thought to himself. He suddenly heard the gentle squeak of the stairs and saw two of the shapes come into view. The knife wielder went into the room next to Ray's and seconds later Ray heard Wadsworth loudly falling to the floor. That slam could have waken the dead. Ray heard one of them curse, then there was silence.

After a few seconds Ray decided to pretend he was asleep. He quietly crept over towards his bed and crouched down beside it. Then, he snored loudly to trick the intruders. Soon, a shape slowly made its way through the door. Ray recognized it as the knife wielder. Ray carefully raised his 10mm and aimed for the intruder's head. In the dim light he could make out the man's face and it definitely wasn't anyone that he knew. The man's face was twisted up into a snarl and the knife was held at the ready. Ray slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger. The bullet went cleanly into the man's head, killing him instantly. The other shape that had followed the – now dead – man up the stairs rushed into the room. Ray squeezed the trigger again and shot the second intruder in the head.

Ray flipped the light switch, turning on all the lights in his house. The last merc stood in the middle of the living room, his assault rifle aimed where Ray stood at the top of the stairs.

"So, here's the target. I expected a challenge," The merc said cockily.

"If you shoot that gun, it's going to be very loud and people are going to come running, so just leave now because any other way it will get messy," Ray said calmly, his 10mm pointing at the merc's head.

Realization flickered across the merc's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. "Then, I'll just have to be quiet," He said, suddenly rushing at Ray, swinging the assault rifle like a club. He swung it in a wide horizontal strike. Ray gasped and launched himself to the right, colliding with the railing there. The merc rushed Ray again, swinging another strong horizontal strike. Ray grabbed the railing with both hands, vaulting over the railing and down into the living room below. He landed on his feet, but painfully rolled his ankle. He cried out from the sudden shock of pain and fell to his side, grabbing out for his ankle. The merc came barreling down the stairs and slowed as he reached the bottom, casually walking towards Ray's downed form.

"You didn't put up a very good fight," The merc said simply before placing his heavy boot at Ray's neck and forcing Ray down until he laid helplessly on his back. He raised the assault rifle, the stock ready to bash Ray's skull in. Suddenly, there was the sound of the door coming open then the merc's head was redecorated with a bloody hole. The merc fell, landing on top of Ray. Ray sputtered and shoved the body off, jumping to his feet.

Jericho stood in the doorway, his combat shotgun gripped in his hands. "You're welcome."

"Thanks. But, how did you know? And what took so long?" Ray said, clearly confused.

"I DO live right next door jackass, so I could hear that pea-shooter going off. By the way, you may want to rethink that shitty lock on your door," Jericho said. With that, he walked right into the house and turned the dead merc onto his back. He briefly examined the dead merc's armor, his face twisting into a snarl as he recognized the logo on the chest-plate. "Talon Company? What did you do to piss off these douche bags?"

"I've never seen them before in my life! I think they were hired to come after me."

"You must have pissed someone off. I'm interested, honestly, but very tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?" Jericho said with a yawn.

"Sure," Ray said cautiously.

"Moriarty's. 3 o'clock," Jericho said, turning to stand in the doorway.

"Please don't be drunk."

"No promises," Jericho said with a smirk before walking out of the house, shutting the door behind himself. Did Jericho really just save my life, then have a somewhat civil conversation with me? Ray wondered to himself as he looked at the mercs' dead bodies.

...

The next day at precisely 3 o'clock, Ray shoved open the door to Moriarty's Saloon. He briefly went over last night in his head, including how he had told Lucas, cleaned up the mess, and turned Wadsworth back on. He examined the room, finding Jericho propping himself up at the bar. Ray took a seat beside him and wasn't surprised to see a full whiskey bottle in front of Jericho. However, he was surprised to see that Jericho wasn't drunk.

"So tell me, who sent Talon Company after you?" Jericho said, grabbing the whiskey bottle and uncorking it as soon as Ray sat down.

"You remember that guy in the suit, Burke? He was in here not too long ago," Ray began.

"How can I not remember that fancy ass freak?" Jericho said, taking a sip from the bottle.

"You got that right. He wanted me to blow up Megaton."

Jericho choked on the alcohol, throwing himself into a coughing fit. "Are you kidding me?"

Ray shook his head. "Nope. Burke was a class A psycho. Well, I told him the bomb had been disarmed. He seemed pissed, but he just said that his employer wouldn't be satisfied and that he better not find out that I did it because I have no idea who he is. And I have a hunch that maybe he works for Allistair Tenpenny. According to what Gob said, Burke seems like the perfect sort to work for Tenpenny."

"You could be right. He really fit the bill. Clean skin, all dressed up, seems snobbishly sophisticated. You're probably right. But, you should really be worrying about Talon Company right now. They won't stop coming until you, or all of them are dead," Jericho said.

"Can't we just kill Burke and they'll stop?" Ray said with a sigh.

"Are you stupid _and_ deaf? I said they won't stop until YOU or ALL OF THEM are DEAD. If you kill Burke, they'll just go to Tenpenny for their pay. They may be tough but they aren't completely stupid," Jericho grumbled, taking a long drawl from the bottle.

"And what Burke wanted me to do seemed like it was a big job, so chances are he's important to Tenpenny, so Tenpenny would pay up," Ray responded. He felt like he had just fallen into a deep pit filled with Brahmin shit. He had to worry about Talon Company, Burke, _and_ Tenpenny. Ray slammed his head onto the counter and groaned.

"You want a drink? It helps," Jericho offered, poking Ray with the bottle.

"No, I don't drink my problems, I deal with them," Ray said harshly.

"Well, have fun with that," Jericho said, taking another drink.

"Do you think that, maybe, you could... help?" Ray asked weakly. He couldn't believe the words as soon as they fell from his lips. He was nearly positive that Jericho would rather make out with Gob than help him.

Jericho shrugged. "Meh, why the hell not? Killing people is funner than sitting here with my thumb in my ass all day. Besides, I hate Talon Company."

Ray's jaw nearly hit the floor. Jericho accepted his plea for help? Surely a second apocalypse would happen now. Jericho had hated Ray ever since he had moved into town, immediately calling him a goody two shoes, white knight, and many other less than pleasant things.

"We aren't gonna get very far with just the two of us. I'm one of the best fighters around here, but that's not enough to take on about a hundred pissed off Talons and whoever else they throw at us," Jericho said.

"No offense, but why are you helping me?" Ray interrupted, still dumbfounded by Jericho's response.

"Well you asked so nicely," He smirked, avoiding the question.

Ray sighed. "The real reason?"

Jericho sighed and took a heavy hit from the bottle before speaking. "I told you I really hate Talon Company. Back when I first became a Raider, we bumped into a group of Talons. I was only about seventeen. Cocky and inexperienced don't mix well," As Jericho said that, Ray immediately thought of Reddin, "Anyways, our leader was a real hot-head. The Talons called us trash and shit like that, and our dumb ass leader went off. He attacked them, but he was like me, cocky and inexperienced. They massacred us. I was nearly dead, and they thought I was, so they left me there. I was the only one who survived. Those guys in my group were like family to me," Jericho concluded with a barely noticeable trace of sadness in his tone. He quickly composed himself and drank heavily from the bottle.

"I'm sorry. Why aren't they still coming after you though?" Ray said.

"I told you they thought I was dead. Plus, no one contacted them and hired them to kill me. Now, who did you have in mind to help us?" Jericho asked, lowering the bottle from his lips as he changed the subject.

"It's a slim shot, but when I was in DC delivering that letter for Gob, I ran into the Lyon's Pride group of elites from the Brotherhood Of Steel. I was thinking that maybe Sarah Lyons, the leader of Lyon's Pride, would help."

"I'm pretty sure that the Brotherhood have bigger fish to fry than worrying about you," Jericho responded.

"It's worth a shot. Besides, we don't exactly have a lot of options," Ray said confidently.

"Whatever you say," Jericho said sharply.

Ray sighed. If Jericho kept being an ass, this was going to be a very long trip.

Gob made his way over to where Ray and Jericho sat, his eyebrow muscle raised.

"Ray, you do realize you're sitting next to Jericho, right? Are you drunk?" Gob said quizzically.

Jericho glared daggers at Gob. "I realize that, and no I'm not drunk," He lightly chucked, "but I need Jericho's help."

"With what? Being a douche?" Gob asked.

Jericho flicked the ghoul off with his unbroken finger.

Ray laughed. "Look, it relates to the guy that kicked his ass. That's all you need to know," Ray said, fearing that letting Gob know anything further would endanger him as well.

Gob shrugged in response, beginning to wipe off the bar with a dirty rag. "I do have a question though, Gob," Ray began.

"Go on," Gob graveled, continuing to wipe off the bar.

"You told me you explored the Wasteland for a little bit before you were captured by those slavers, did you ever come across a place called The Citadel?" Ray asked, remembering Sarah telling him about it during her brief visit when he had been laid up in GNR. It was The Brotherhood's heavily fortified headquarters.

Gob's brow muscle furrowed as if in deep thought. "I believe so. It was a long time ago. There was a guy wearing power armor out front, I remember asking him what the hell the place was. He said it was The Citadel and that's all I needed to know, then he sent me on my way."

"Sounds like the place I'm looking for. Do you remember where it was?" Ray asked pulling out his worn map and a pencil.

"I think so," Gob stammered, reaching for the map. Ray handed him the map and watched as his milky eyes studied the worn hand drawn map. Gob traced his ruined finger along the line that made up the Potomac. "There," He said finally, placing his finger on a spot just outside of DC. Ray sighed in relief as he realized he wouldn't have to make the long trip through the metro tunnels to get into and through DC. Ray took the pencil and put a dot where Gob had pointed, writing The Citadel next to it in small yet neat handwriting.

"Thanks a million, Gob," Ray said with a happy grin before folding up the map and placing in the small side pocket on his backpack.

Jericho drained the rest of the amber liquid in his bottle, slamming it on the counter. "Now, we ready to go or what?" He asked in an impatient tone.

Ray sighed. This was definitely going to be a long trip.


	8. Care to Join Us, Sentinel?

_**Author's Note: Yes, I realize it has been about two weeks since an update. I'm REALLY sorry! I've been soo overloaded with school that it's ridiculous. I tried to make it up to you guys by giving you nine pages :D Thanks to eLRock for favoriting this story. I don't know if I thanked eLRock before, but I'm too lazy to check lol.**_

Wasteland Survival Part 9

Ray sighed in relief as The Citadel finally came into view. The trip had been a long one, made worse by Jericho's constant complaining and trying to fight with anyone they passed. Ray's mind kept replaying how close of a call it had been with a passing caravan.

...

He and Jericho had been walking along, Jericho being surprisingly quiet. They had crossed paths with a caravan. The caravaneer, a man in a suit who called himself Doc Hoff, was offering to show them what he had for sale. Ray began to replay the scene in his mind.

"How would you fine gentlemen like to see my wares? I specialize mainly in medical supplies and things of that nature," Doc Hoff had said, a cheesy salesman's smile plastered on his face.

Ray was about to respond, but Jericho took the small pause as a chance to start a little trouble. "I hate suits. And no, we don't want to see your medical horseshit," Jericho said nonchalantly, throwing his cigarette at the doctor's face. The caravan guard turned his attention to Jericho and trained the barrel of his 10mm submachine gun at him, his brow furrowed, his eyes daring Jericho to make a move. Jericho gave a small grin. "Do it. I dare ya," Jericho said with the same grin, fingering the combat shotgun on his back.

Ray grabbed Jericho by his arm and began to haul him away. "Sorry about my," Ray gave a small pause, trying to find the correct word to describe Jericho; they weren't exactly friends, "traveling partner," He finally decided, wincing inwardly at his poor choice of words. Doc Hoff didn't respond, instead giving a glare, wiping cigarette ashes from his face, then turning to lead the caravan away. The caravan guard gave a parting middle finger to them, then turned to follow Doc Hoff.

...

Ray was snapped out of his memories by Jericho suddenly breaking his silence. "Goddamn, is it hot enough? My feet hurt, can we take a break soon?"

Ray's jaw clenched. His last nerve was about to snap. He had never been so annoyed by anyone in his life. Jericho was very effective in battle and Ray barely had a chance to grab his own weapon before Jericho was laughing with glee as he splattered some poor sap's brains over the Wasteland's floor, but Ray was beginning to feel that he would rather take his chances of his own brains being splattered if he meant that he wouldn't have to deal with the old Raider anymore.

"So can we take a break or what? I need a drink," Jericho's rough voice snapped him out of his pondering.

"Can you shut the hell up? The Citadel is right there for Christ sake!" Ray roared, pointing at the large metal structure that was The Citadel.

"Well then, looks like the white knight has a bit of a temper," Jericho said tauntingly with his mischievous smirk.

Ray rolled his eyes and walked a little faster. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"You just did," Jericho said with a grin, quickening his pace to match Ray's. Ray opened his mouth to snipe back at Jericho, but quickly snapped it shut again; arguing would get them nowhere.

...

Finally they reached the gate of The Citadel. Two people in matching suits of power armor with matching mini-guns and a sentry bot stood guard. One wore a helmet while the other's head, was bare, showing his chin length brownish-blond hair. Ray and Jericho approached, receiving looks of mistrust from the two Brotherhood guards.

"May I help you civilian?" The one without a helmet asked.

"Yes, I need to speak to Sentinel Lyons. It's very important," Ray said.

"Sorry. I can't let you in."

Jericho stepped forward threateningly. "Look here asshole, I don't care about your rules and regulations. This is a life and death situation!" Jericho shouted at the man.

Ray shot Jericho a glare. "I'm sorry for my companion's behavior! I helped Sentinel Lyons at GNR and I really need her help," Ray begged.

The man sighed. "I'll let you in, but I'm not taking her to you right away. You tell me what you need to say to her and if she knows you, she'll come to you."

Ray sighed in annoyance. Why did everything always have to be so complicated? "Fine."

"Also, I'll have to check you for weapons before I can let you in," The man explained.

"Now why the hell do you have to do that? Do you really think we're dumb enough to shoot up a place full of you power armored maniacs?" Jericho snarled, his voice dripping with irritation.

"You'd be surprised," He responded with a roll of his eyes as he came forward to frisk them.

...

Soon, Ray and Jericho's weapons were tossed in a small pile near the other guard.

"Damn. You done now, or do you want to give us a cavity search?" Jericho growled sarcastically.

"Any more comments like that and you'll get one with a Power Fist," He snapped back.

Jericho gave him a dirty look, but remained silent. The guard reciprocated, then led them through the gate of The Citadel.

It was like Underworld all over again, but instead of hundreds of milky, radiation ravaged eyes turning to Ray, it was hundreds of eyes that were hidden by power helmets and some that weren't hidden. The ones that weren't hidden shot Ray and Jericho looks of distrust. Ray's stomach gave an uneasy flip and he awkwardly looked around, not sure of where to cast his gaze. Jericho shot glares back at whoever stared.

"Who are you and what do you have to say?" Their escort asked.

"Tell her that Ray from GNR is here and I need her help taking out Talon Company," Ray responded.

As Ray finished, the man threw back his head and laughed as if Ray had just told the funniest joke in the world. "Do you really think Sentinel Lyons is going to care about your little piss-ant problem? We have bigger problems with the Enclave and the Muties right now."

"Look, can you please just ask her? I really helped out the Brotherhood at GNR," Ray pleaded.

The man wiped tears from his eyes. "Sure. Just don't be surprised if she can't help," He replied gruffly, turning and leaving them standing in the square.

Ray shifted his weight from foot to foot. He could feel their distrustful glares burning into him. This was worse than Underworld. At least in Underworld he wasn't surrounded by heavily trained, heavily armed killing machines.

"Would you quit squirming? You're making me want to scream that you're a spy for the Enclave," Jericho said, turning a mischievous look on Ray.

"Well, how the hell are you so calm? If you haven't noticed, we're surrounded by Brotherhood who will end us if we even move too quickly. These guys are more paranoid than a Jet junkie about to run out of their stash!" Ray hissed.

Jericho simply shrugged. "I've been through worse," He replied, putting a hand in his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There were several sharp intakes of air and several Brotherhood leveled their laser rifles at him. As Jericho held up the pack of cigarettes they slightly relaxed, but continued to nervously eye him as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, then slowly returned the pack to his pocket.

"God! Are you trying to get us killed you jackass?" Ray frantically spat, watching the Brotherhood turn even more attention to them.

"Chill out. Everything's all right," He replied, exhaling a small plume of smoke and shrugging.

...

Finally, Sarah Lyons walked out, shadowed by the man who had escorted Ray and Jericho inside. Ray was surprised to see that she wore a typical Wasteland Wanderer outfit with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, instead of her Lyons Pride armor. She smiled as she approached, the man shadowing her walking past them to stand guard at the front gate once again.

Ray opened his mouth to greet her but was – as always – cut off by Jericho. "Well, hel-lo kitty cat," Jericho said lecherously, his eyes slowly examining her form.

Sarah's smile faded, shock crossing over her face. She let her duffel bag slide off of her shoulder and onto the ground with a heavy thump. "What did you just call me?" She asked lowly, her cheeks flushing an angry red.

"Oh God," was all Ray could manage.

"Ooh, the kitty cat's got claws! I like that," Jericho said, grinning down at her. Faster than Ray could imagine, Sarah swung her booted foot easily through the air, roundhouse kicking Jericho right in the face.

Jericho hit the ground hard, smacking flat on his back. His hands flew to his face, holding his nose. His fingers quickly became stained with crimson. "That's the second time this month that I've gotten dropped," He said flatly, although his face twisted with pain.

"I didn't realize you could count," Sarah responded, grabbing her bag from the ground and slinging it back on her shoulder.

Ray couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. "That was awesome! You have to show me how to do that!"

Sarah gave a light chuckle. "I would be more than willing if he's up for more practice," She responded, watching Jericho trying to climb to his feet with an amused look.

"Goddamn it; for a small girl, you kick hard," Jericho grunted, finally managing to stand.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Please don't tell me that you're actually friends with this guy," She pleaded more than asked, looking at Ray.

"Not exactly. He's volunteered to help me take out Talon Company," Ray said, glancing at Jericho.

"And may I ask how the hell you got tangled up with those sorry excuses for mercenaries?" Sarah asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Nothing's concrete, but I'm pretty sure this guy named Burke is pissed at me for messing up his plot to blow up Megaton. I think he works for Allistair Tenpenny," Ray tried to explain.

"Great," Sarah muttered.

"Yeah. So, do you have the time to help us? I thought that you were really busy with the Enclave and Muties?" Ray asked.

"Well, Star Paladin Cross volunteered to take over the Lyons Pride while I'm away and, after much convincing, my dad, the Elder, finally decided to let me go. Plus Talon Company is a problem for the Wastes, they're just not exactly at the top of our list right now. The Enclave and Muties are definitely more harmful to the entire Capital Wasteland, thus making them top priority for the Brotherhood," Sarah quickly explained.

"Okay, so where should we start? I'm not exactly sure of how to take on an army," Ray sighed, his shoulders slumping with discouragement.

"Not bringing any power armor? That would really help our chances," Jericho asked Sarah.

She shook her head. "No. Being inconspicuous would really help right now. Power armor tends to stand out and attract a little too much attention."

"Well shit. Anyway, we are going to need somewhere to stay to plan things out. How about we head back to Megaton?" Jericho offered, his voice slightly muffled by his hand placed over his mouth and nose, trying to slow the flow of blood.

"I don't want to head back to Megaton. They know where I live and they will probably hurt people there to get to me," Ray responded, his voice sounding worried.

"They attacked you in your home? That's odd. Even for the Talons. Talon Company may act like bad asses but they are cowards who wait until you're alone and away from major settlements to attack you. If they attacked you at home they were either inexperienced or they really mean business," Sarah said, confusion coloring her tone.

Jericho huffed, his face twisting up angrily. "Then where the fuck are we supposed to stay? We just got started and already we are stuck!"

"Calm down. We will find a place. There are tons of people surviving out in the Wastes. We'll find an old building or something," Sarah said, rolling her eyes at Jericho's reaction to the situation.

"I know several safe houses, but none are nearby," Ray said, pulling out his worn map and looking at the scattered dots. The nearest one was the thrift store where he had stayed a few weeks ago, but there was no way he was willing and able to go trekking back through DC.

"Looks like we'll have to do some scouting. We need a place away from settlements or large groups of people, and most importantly, a place that looks abandoned. We are trying to keep a low profile after all," Sarah explained.

"Great. More damn wandering," Jericho growled, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

"And your sterling personality is going to make it so much funner," Sarah said sarcastically with a grin.

"Nice to know you guys are best friends," Ray said jokingly.

Sarah shot Jericho a glare and he reciprocated with a mischievous grin. Ray turned to lead the group out of The Citadel. "After you my lady," Jericho said to Sarah, grinning broadly and waving his left arm after Ray.

"God, this is going to be a long trip," Sarah groaned as she moved to follow Ray.

...

The three had been walking for awhile, an awkward silence cloaked over them as the sun took its bow behind the horizon. They were approaching a quite small building that Ray had spotted hovering on the horizon, neighboring the setting sun. They approached it now, realizing that it appeared to be the remains of an old hotel. There were four doors on top and four on bottom. The lower doors were blocked by rubble that used to be the concrete walkway of the top floor.

"There's still a little walkway left. We can climb up and stay in those rooms," Jericho pointed out.

"Good thinking," Sarah mumbled as she approached the rubble and looked up at the rooms.

"You need a boost? I wouldn't mind lifting you up there," Jericho offered in a suggestive tone, his mischievous grin darting across his lips.

"Please Gramps, you'd probably throw out your back," Sarah shot back, jumping and grabbing what was left of the railing, agilely pulling herself up. Ray chuckled slightly at their back and forth. Jericho and Sarah had hardly spoken and each time they did it had been incredibly sarcastic.

Ray approached the walkway next, jumping and grabbing onto the ruin and hauling himself up, though not quite as agilely as the Sentinel.

Lastly, Jericho approached, jumping and missing the walkway the first time. He grabbed it on the next try. His legs kicked through the air as he struggled to pull himself up. His arms shook with the strain and his face turned a bright scarlet. Finally, with much grunting and swearing, he managed to haul himself up.

"God damn," He panted, gasping for breath. Ray and Sarah burst out laughing at his struggle. "Shut the fuck up!" He panted at them, face turning even redder, which only made them laugh harder.

"Well, that was entertaining," Sarah said, wiping tears from her eyes as she struggled to stop laughing, then turned to the nearest door. She turned the knob and pushed the door open. The three were instantly hit with an incredibly foul smell. They had all smelled some terrible things, but this was definitely one of the worst.

"Aw! What the fuck is that?" Jericho howled as he recoiled from the smell, nearly falling off the remains of the walkway.

"That," Sarah said, one hand covering her mouth and nose while the other was busy pointing at the dead body as Ray gagged and hurriedly scooted further down the walkway. The body had clearly been there for a while. A few Radroaches skittered around the body, pulling at loose strips of flesh. The body's clothes were tattered and filthy, covered with dried blood. The skin looked as though it had begun to decompose, a few bones were showing through the ruined flesh of the fingers. A Radroach stopped eating at the fingers to turn and hiss at them.

"I'm sure none of us want to clean that up. Let's check the other rooms," She said, her face twisting with disgust as she slammed the door.

...

The other rooms were equally disgusting. One held a chem addict who appeared to have recently overdosed, the next room's roof was caved in, the floor covered with rubble and mold, and the last room contained a Giant Radscorpion for some reason. Ray gasped at the massive Radscorpion and quickly slammed the door just as it turned around and lashed at them with its massive stinger. The stinger hit the door a few times, making solid thwocking sounds before finally stopping.

"Great. So this place is just as much of a shit hole as it looks. What now?" Jericho sighed, looking over at Ray.

"We could try to clear the rubble from the rooms downstairs," Ray offered.

"I"m in. Let's do it," Sarah responded, jumping headfirst from the walkway and landing agilely in a roll that brought her gracefully to her feet.

"Show off," Jericho shouted at her. "I can do the same thing!" With that, he jumped headfirst from the walkway, slamming face-first into the dirt and landing in a heap. Ray burst out laughing, as did Sarah. Jericho climbed to his feet with a huff, blushing deeply as he wiped his face and arms off. "Shut your fucking faces!" He shouted, causing more raucous laughter from the Wastelander and the Sentinel.

...

Jabsco walked towards Burke's room, an act he had performed too many times to count. Unlike all the other times, he felt a heavy knot in his stomach. He had never had to inform Burke of failure before, and he was certain that his failure would set off Burke's volatile anger. Burke had a nasty temper. He knew that for certain.

Jabsco would never forget the time they were talking about a contract on the balcony and a guard had brought up Burke's requested Vodka. The stupid guard had managed to stumble and spill the drink on Burke; Jabsco had never seen someone so angry in his life. After unleashing a torrent of curses at the guard, Burke had loosened his tie and told the guard to go. Much to the surprise of Jabsco, Burke took his tie off and wrapped it around the guard's neck quicker than he could imagine. Burke's face twisted with sadistic glee as he strangled the guard, the fine silk of the tie not even straining with the pressure. Soon, Burke had let the guard's lifeless body drop to the hard ground of the balcony, calmly retying his tie around his own neck as if he had not just strangled a man with it.

A tingle shot down Jabsco's spine at the recollection. He had seen his own mercs do some crazy things, hell he had done some crazy things, but Burke was the only man who seemed so genuinely satisfied as he killed in his sadistic way. Jabsco struggled to push the memory back down into the recesses of his mind as he pushed open the door to Burke's suite. Burke sat in a comfy-looking faded pink-red chair, a book cradled in his hand.

"Ah, there you are. So, have you brought me his head?" Burke asked excitedly, his dark eyes lighting up behind his sunglasses.

Jabsco squirmed under his excited stare. "Well, um... I sent a team after him, but, um, he's still... alive," Jabsco whispered, his eyes looking everywhere but at Burke.

"WHAT?" Burke roared. He cocked his arm back, sending the thick book flying at Jabsco's head. The book hit with a heavy thunk, sending Jabsco's combat helmet crashing to the floor. He was out of the chair and gripping the chest plate of Jabsco's armor, yelling in his face with his teeth bared in about two seconds.

"YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN THEY FAILED?" He roared, spittle flying from his lips and hitting Jabsco in the face. Jabsco sputtered, racking his brain for an answer. Burke shoved him roughly backwards, causing him to stumble to the ground.

Jabsco hit the ground hard. His eyes were wide with shock as his feet scrabbled at the floor, pushing himself backwards and away from Burke. His back hit a file cabinet, bringing his retreat to a halt. Burke didn't move towards him, nor did he say a word. He ripped his fedora off and let it fall to the ground. He paced back and forth, his hands grasping at his shaven head. "You damned moron. I'm completely lost as to how you managed to fuck up such a simple task," Burke suddenly hissed, halting his pacing and scooping up his fedora.

"You will kill him, or I will kill you," Burke spat coldly. Even through the sunglasses, Jabsco could feel Burke's eyes burning into him. Burke walked back to his chair. Instead of sitting down, he reached into the cushion, pulling out a combat knife. Jabsco couldn't see what Burke was doing, but he seized the opportunity to quickly jump to his feet.

"I'll be sure to do better next time, Sir," Jabsco quickly said, trying to save a little face. Burke turned and approached him, one hand slightly behind his back. Jabsco noticed this and looked into Burke's face, hoping to read his emotions. Burke kept a perfect poker face, no trace of any emotion anywhere. Suddenly his left arm flicked out, grabbing Jabsco by his wrist.

"What?!" Jabsco cried with surprise. Burke's right arm produced the combat knife. A sadistic grin was now stretched across his mouth. He slammed Jabsco's hand against the filing cabinet, splaying out his fingers. Jabsco cried out, trying to pull his hand away, but Burke was surprisingly strong. Burke suddenly brought the combat knife across Jabsco's pinkie finger, cleaving it off.

Jabsco let out a cry, cradling his hand to his chest, blood gushing from the stump of his pinkie. "Next time you come here, this Ray better be dead, or you'll go through more pain than losing a pinkie," Burke growled at Jabsco, wiping the blood off on the merc leader's armor. Burke grabbed his book from the floor and calmly headed back to his chair.

"Leave. Now. You better not have gotten blood on my floor." Jabsco gritted his teeth with the pain. He cradled his hand to his chest and grabbed his finger off the floor with the other. He grabbed his prized combat helmet and ran from the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him, and dashed to the elevator, mashing the down button with his unhurt hand.

**_Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope to see your wonderful reviews! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be uploaded, but please, bear with me._**


	9. Dog Eat Dog

_**Author's Note: I would like to give a quick thanks to Shadowninja123 for favoriting this story. I'm almost positive I haven't thanked them before, but I just checked the favs list and for some reason, I never got an email telling me they favved, so sorry Shadowninja!**_

**_As always, please review! They make me smile like a big idiot :D_**

Wasteland Survival Part 10

Ray and Sarah heaved aside the last chunk of concrete; it hit the ground with a heavy crash. Ray straightened out his back with a groan as it gave several loud pops.

"Don't you think you could have helped out a little more?" Sarah asked Jericho, her eyes shooting him a glare and her voice dripping venom.

"I could've...but I chose not to for my own health," Jericho said with a smirk as he stubbed out his cigarette on the sidewalk that he sat on. "Besides, I drink and smoke too much. What if I had a heart attack? I know you guys would be too sad to carry on without me," He tacked on with a grin.

"Oh yes. What would we do without our trusty drunk?" Ray said with a scoff and a grin. "Let's stop blabbing and check out this room now."

Ray approached the door. The brownish red of the door had been scratched by the rubble and covered with a thin layer of dust. The golden 4 that hung on the door was slightly lopsided from the rubble that had fallen on it, the gold paint covered with scratches.

Ray grabbed the door handle and turned. The door swung open, revealing a room that looked as if it had been preserved since the great war; it likely had. There was a glass cabinet pressed against one wall of the room. A brown wooden stand supported a strange looking box that Ray had seen many times, but never knew what the hell it was. It looked like a terminal like the ones Ray had tried to hack (and failed) many times, but without the keyboard. Two small single beds were pressed against the opposite wall, accompanied by a smaller one that looked like it was for a child. The teddy bear that lounged on the smaller bed confirmed this. A small coffee table stood in the middle of the room. A turn around the corner led to a small bathroom, the toilet, sink, and bathtub surprisingly intact. A refrigerator stood near the door to the bathroom. A thin layer of dust covered everything, and the air smelled musty and stagnant, as if it had been trapped in here for a long time.

"What is that?" Ray asked, pointing at the terminal without keys.

"I don't know, but I know they're fun to smash," Jericho said with a grin, approaching it with his Combat Shotgun held like a club.

"Don't!" Sarah suddenly shouted, rushing up to the box with wide eyes. Ray raised an eyebrow. The only flaw with the Brotherhood of Steel was that their leaders were obsessed with finding and acquiring intact Pre-War technology. The soldiers killed their enemies and brought back any Pre-War tech for the Scribes. Besides fighting the Enclave and Muties, this was their main mission.

"This is a television, or a TV for short. People used to buy these because you could buy cable or a dish and watch shows that were recorded, then beamed through the cable or dish and they would show up on the TV. I've never seen one in this good of condition before," Sarah said, a sense of wonder in her voice as her hands gingerly brushed over the knobs on the TV.

Jericho put his Combat Shotgun away and looked at the TV. "That's actually pretty cool. And that's saying something coming from me, I usually hate that techy bullshit."

Ray was at a loss for words. A box that showed moving pictures? He'd never heard of such a thing, and probably would have laughed at anyone else who told him about it. Jericho quickly lost interest in the TV and walked over to the glass cabinet. He pulled open the doors and let out a loud cry of something that could only be joy. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Whiskey.

"Jackpot! There's tons of drinks in here!" Jericho bellowed, his eyes thirstily examining the cabinet.

"Jericho, we will have to sell some of that. We can't exactly survive out here with hardly any caps," Ray warned lowly.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll save some to sell, but I'm going to have a few drinks, so shhh," Jericho responded, pressing a finger to his lips in a hushing motion.

"If you get too drunk and you start shit, I'm going to kick your ass. Just a warning," Sarah said nonchalantly, sitting on the smaller bed.

"Calm down honey. I'll keep it under control," Jericho responded, pulling the cork out of the bottle and taking a heavy swallow.

Sarah rolled her eyes and put her duffel bag on the floor. She laid her Laser Rifle on the bed and began to take it apart, carefully cleaning each of the parts. Jericho turned from the cabinet and went over to one of the beds, laying down with a sigh of relief and frequently sipping from the bottle. One foot hung carelessly over the side of the mattress as he watched Sarah clean her rifle.

Ray wasn't sure of what to do. He went over to the last bed and sat down. He put his backpack on the bed and laid back, his back giving several more pops from all the heavy lifting. Before he knew it, he fell asleep.

...

Ray awoke an unknown amount of time later, his stomach growling loudly. Dim light spilled from the still open doorway. Ray looked at his compatriots. Jericho lay on his back, his fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of the now empty Whiskey bottle. His eyes were shut in a peaceful look of sleep and snores rumbled from between his parted lips. Ray looked to Sarah. She lay on her side, her Laser Rifle wrapped in her arms and her head resting on it as she cuddled it close. Her lips were curled up in a small grin of sleep. It was almost comical seeing the soldier curled up and snuggling her Laser Rifle as if it was human. Ray smiled at his companions and went to stand in the open doorway.

The sun had ducked even lower behind the horizon. Only the very top of the sun poked above the horizon. The sunset set the clouds on fire, the sky a scarlet pink. The sunset had always been one thing Ray loved about the Wasteland. It was unseen from the DC ruins, but if you were in the right part of the Wastes, it was amazing. It was one of the few beautiful things in the Wasteland; it showed that you had lived another day, now you just had to make it through the night.

Ray was pulled from his thoughts by his stomach giving another loud rumble. He let out a small sigh and went to look in the refrigerator. Hopefully it had something to eat, even if it was Pre-War and had been sitting for God knows how long. Ray pulled the door open and peered inside. To his dismay, it was bare. He let out a hiss of irritation and gently closed the door, trying not to wake Sarah and Jericho.

Ray grabbed his 10mm and went back to the doorway. He was hesitant to leave, afraid that Talon Company could have followed them. "Don't be ridiculous," He mumbled to himself. He hesitantly stepped outside, his 10mm pointed in front of him, his eyes raking his surroundings.

There was nothing except the gentle sound of the wind blowing. He sighed a little in relief, and slightly lowered his pistol. He walked on, wishing that he would stumble across a Molerat or some creature he could eat. He hadn't eaten since before they reached The Citadel. And the only reason he and Jericho had been able to eat is because Ray had sold the Hunting Rifle that he got from the Super Mutants back when he first met Sarah in DC.

...

After what felt like eternities to Ray, he finally stumbled across a Vicious Dog. It charged him on sight, snarling and snapping it's jaws. Ray raised his pistol, but before he could shoot, the dog had leaped through the air and was upon him. The dog hit him hard, knocking them both to the ground.

The dog's teeth were snapping inches from his throat, its rancid breath panting right in his face. Ray gagged and wrapped his hands around the dog's throat. He grabbed the dog around its neck and threw it away from him with a grunt. The dog rolled on its side and quickly jumped to its feet. It was growling loudly, sounding more like something that had crawled out of hell than a dog.

Ray grabbed for his pistol, the dog suddenly darting out and latching onto his hand. Ray let out a cry of pain, crimson dripping from his hand. What if the dog had rabies? He hauled himself to his feet, the dog still hanging from his hand. The dog planted its feet against the concrete and pulled roughly backwards, tearing Ray's flesh even more. It shook its head back and forth with a loud snarl. Ray let out a cry of pain mixed with rage.

"You fuck!" He shouted in an enraged tone. He dropped his 10mm again and quickly scooped it up with his free hand. He delivered a powerful kick to the dog's ribs. The dog flew backwards with a loud yelp. He quickly raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullet sailed through the air and buried itself in the dog's chest. The dog stopped snarling and fell to the ground. Ray approached where it lay. The dog lay on the ground, whimpers sliding from its muzzle. Ray gently placed his pistol against the dog's temple and squeezed the trigger.

The dog stopped whimpering and squirming after the small bang sounded. Its eyes slid shut. Ray let out a small sigh and holstered his 10mm. He grabbed the dog's back leg and dragged it back towards the hotel.

...

Ray dropped the dog near the door and immediately went into the hotel room. He glanced at his friends. Jericho was still asleep, snoring incredibly loud. Sarah woke up at his entrance. She slowly sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes with a yawn as Ray rushed into the bathroom. "You okay?" She called, her voice filled with confusion.

"Not exactly, but I got dinner," Ray responded from the bathroom. He ripped open the first aid kit, looking for something to sterilize the dog bite with. Sarah raised an eyebrow and walked into the bathroom, straightening her usual ponytail.

"Holy shit! What the fuck happened to you?" She gasped, looking at Ray's hand. Blood was flowing from it like water from a faucet, a torn strip of flesh dangling.

"That damn dog used me for a chew toy. What if it had rabies?" He said, panic leaking into his tone with the last sentence. Sarah rushed from the room, dashing over to the glass cabinet. She'd seen what happens when rabies went untreated, and it was not pretty. She tore open the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of Whiskey.

"Forgive me you perverted old man," She said with a glance at the snoring Jericho. She rushed back to the bathroom, grabbing Ray's injured hand by the wrist and holding it over the sink. She ripped the cork out of the bottle with her teeth and spat it onto the floor. She then poured the entire bottle over Ray's hand. Ray's eyes went wide with the sudden searing pain. He clenched his jaw and let out a muffled cry of pain. The burning pain died down, painstaking slowly. Ray smoothed out his breathing. "You okay now?" Sarah asked, holding a Stimpack that she had produced from the first aid kit.

"A little better, not much. There's still flesh hanging from my hand," Ray said hastily, "Please, hurry up and use the Stimpack," He managed, trying not to sound rude. Sarah gave a quick nod. She carefully reached out with a steady hand and gently took the dangling flesh between her thumb and index finger. There was a sharp intake of breath from Ray, to which Sarah gently responded "Shh, you're almost done." She carefully maneuvered the flesh back into its original position and injected it in three different spots with the Stimpack. She wrapped it up with some of the bandages and gave Ray's arm a gentle pat. "There. All done," She said.

Ray let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

As Sarah put the extra bandages away she spotted something under a towel on the bathroom floor. She pulled the dirty towel off and exposed a small machine. "A generator?"

Ray glanced down. "Do you think it works?"

"One way to find out," Sarah said, flicking the ON button. Surprisingly, the little generator came to life with a loud surging sound, illuminating the room that had been quickly darkening.

"Sweet!" Ray cried at the sudden burst of light. A loud boom came from the living area, followed by a loud "What the fuck!"

Ray and Sarah rushed from the bathroom to find Jericho laying on the floor, his eyes wide with surprise. Ray and Sarah burst out laughing. "We just turned on a generator, its not the apocalypse...again," Sarah managed between fits of laughter.

Jericho clumsily hauled himself to his feet, grumbling as he did so. He made his way back to the cabinet, grabbing another bottle of Whiskey. "Don't fill up on Whiskey. Ray bagged us a fresh meal," Sarah said to Jericho after she managed to quit laughing.

"Really? So, the White Knight actually got his hands dirty for once," Jericho said with a roll of his eyes as he popped open the bottle.

"Jericho, I wandered out here for seven years before I moved into Megaton," Ray responded, irritated by Jericho's remark.

"Okay, okay. You got me, so what'd you get?" Jericho responded.

Ray led them through the door and gestured to the dog's body with a small grin. "Better than nothing. Could really go for some Mirelurk though," Ray said.

"Better than nothing," Jericho repeated, putting his bottle on the ground and pulling out a Combat Knife to skin the dog with.

As Jericho skinned, Ray and Sarah milled about, finding things to make a fire with. Little was said between the three, aside from Jericho's occasional grumblings about how much the dog stank. Soon, a small fire burned in the night, pieces of dog flesh poised on sticks and roasting over the open fire. They ate quickly, hunger getting the best of them. Dust was kicked over the dimming fire, uneatable scraps from the dog buried in the ruined dirt of the Wasteland. After the meal, the small group retired to the hotel room, climbing into bed and quickly falling asleep.

...

Ray cracked his eyes open to the bright morning sunshine that flitted through the thin, faded blue curtains that were draped carelessly over the window. He yawned and slowly sat up. He felt refreshed, the bed was comfortable, even though it was a little lumpy. Jericho lay on his stomach, surprisingly sleeping without snoring. Sarah was nowhere to be seen. Ray looked about the small room. He climbed out of the bed and went to the bathroom. Not there either. He pulled open the door to the hotel room and looked outside.

Sarah was out front, aiming her Laser Rifle at a few empty Whiskey and Nuka Cola bottles. She shot them one at a time, the red laser zipping through the air and shattering the bottles. "Morning," She said without looking up as she pulled the Microfusion Cell from the rifle, tossed it aside, and loaded another.

"So, what you up to?" Ray asked awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

"Target practice. If we're going after Talon Company, we need to do something about weapons for you and Jericho," She responded, fiddling with the ammunition and looking over at Jericho.

"I definitely need some, but what's wrong with Jericho's shotgun?" Ray asked, watching her as she adjusted the ammo.

"You kidding me? That thing's shot to shit. On top of that, the ammo's expensive, unless you can scavenge some," Sarah responded.

"You got a point there. Did you have any ideas?" Ray replied.

"Well, unless the caravans come running, looks like scavving," Sarah mumbled, examining the sights on her rifle.

"Jericho will be thrilled," Ray said sarcastically.

"Thrilled about what?" Jericho called from behind them, his voice rougher than usual from sleep.

"About your favorite thing in the world; wandering around looking for crap," Sarah said with a grin, looking to Jericho who leaned in the doorway of the room.

Jericho groaned and turned back to the hotel, disappearing inside the shadows of the room.


	10. Scavenging for Trouble

**_Author's Note: Hellooo Capital Wasteland! This is Three Dog and you're listening to Galaxy News Radio! Bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. No wait, that's not right. This is TBM1...Dog? And you're reading Wasteland Survival! Okay, lame intro is lame. And I'll never do that again... _**

**_Thanks to Token Cylon for favoriting this story and thanks to everyone's continued readership :D This story would be nothing without you guys. Also, I released my first one-shot called Bye Bye Butch, so yay! _**

**_Speaking of one-shots, I'm thinking about writing one about the day Ray's parents were killed by the Yao Guai. Does that sound interesting? It would give him a little more of a back story and we could know some more about his parents and his life before being a wanderer. Anyways, enjoy and review :D_**

Wasteland Survival Part 11

Ray and Sarah crouched low behind the concrete highway divider that made up their cover. Jericho was laughing loudly as he ran between the different forms of cover, throwing taunts and wildly firing his Combat Shotgun at the Raiders that had decided to call this particular stretch of highway home. Sarah and Ray were frustrated with his recklessness as they were more calculating, but they couldn't deny that he somehow made his wild technique work.

Ray carefully leaned around the corner and aimed at a Raider with a large bright blue Mohawk. He had planned for a head shot, but his bullet decided to take its own course and slam into the Raider's shoulder. The Raider let out a small cry of surprise, but was cut short as buckshot from Jericho's Combat Shotgun burst most of his head into chunks of gore. Jericho let out a loud bark of mocking laughter, followed by more shotgun fire. Sarah leaned around the corner opposite Ray. In her sights was a thin looking woman with dirty skin and most of her hair shaved off except for the occasional dark patch of what hair remained. She held a Frag Grenade between her filthy hands, ready to pull the pin.

Sarah slowly let out her breath and squeezed the trigger. The red hot laser zipped through the air, striking the woman right in the face like a small red lightning bolt. The woman let out a wail of horrible pain as the laser covered most of her face with a nasty black burn. Sarah fired again, this shot hitting the same target, killing her this time. The woman fell face first to the ground with a resounding thump, sending up a small plume of stirred dust.

Ray leaned back around his corner and looked for a target. The sounds of the small war zone had disappeared. He could see no more Raiders. He and Sarah stood up from the makeshift cover and went to regroup with Jericho.

"Let's check out the camp further up the on-ramp. I've got a feeling we're not alone yet," Ray said as he turned to lead his friends towards the small, hastily constructed walls that made up the Raider's shelters. They only had about three walls to each small shanty. They didn't even have roofs. This was the typical Raider shelter, add the graffiti and mutilated bodies that made up their macabre décor and you had the full package.

The place definitely didn't feel dead yet. A shadow ducked unbeknownst around the corner behind the trio. Ray spun around, following his instinct, his eyes scanning the area. He slightly furrowed his brow, putting away his 10mm and retrieving his machete. He approached the corner, walking slowly. As he jumped around the corner and jabbed forward with the machete, the shadow disappeared. "Come on out you little bitch! Your buddies are dead and you're next!" Jericho taunted, followed by his mocking laughter as he pulled out his shotgun. Ray gave Jericho a silencing look and continued up the on-ramp.

Ray held his machete at the ready as they scoured the camp. They walked through the few small shanties and stopped near the top of the on-ramp. Ray glanced down at the fall below. The highway had crumbled here, a single car dangling precariously on the edge. The ruins of the fallen part of the highway lay below, several cars were buried under the rubble with various parts sticking up out of the debris.

"What a horrible way to die," Ray remarked. Suddenly, the shadow leaped from a perch atop the nearest shanty. The thin man flew through the air, his shoulder length, grungy-looking hair blown by the sudden movement. He landed easily on Jericho's back.

"What in the fuck!" Jericho barked as he stumbled, dropping his Combat Shotgun off the highway. It fell far below and audibly broke. The man scratched at Jericho's face and kicked at his kidneys. Jericho stumbled and nearly fell off the highway when the man suddenly began to pummel his shaved head with heavy yet bony fists. Sarah struggled to line up a shot while Ray rushed at them with his machete. He swung at the Raider, embedding the edge of the machete deeply in his back.

The Raider's wide, bloodshot eyes turned to Ray. He obviously wasn't fazed by the pain as he quickly swung his heavy boot into Ray's stomach then face in two fluid movements. Ray nearly puked when he was kicked in the stomach, but it was quickly forgotten as new pain ripped across his brow. Ray fell to his knees, his hands pressed to his brow.

He shook the pain away and grabbed his machete again, swinging a heavy blow at the man. It struck and once again the man didn't react. He howled with anger and swung his boot rapidly, kicking Ray in the head several times. Ray fell on his back, stars dancing beyond his eyelids, his world slowly going black.

Sarah let out a gasp as Ray was knocked out by the man who was unfazed by the deep cuts that poured blood down his back and dripped onto the hot pavement. The boots obviously had something in them to make them heavier, that was for sure. She fired, the hot laser searing the man's back. The drug crazed Raider howled with anger and pummeled Jericho some more. Jericho fell to his knees, the Raider jumping off and landing beside him. Jericho aimed a wide right hook for the Raider's knees, but the punch was dodged by a swift jump. The Raider delivered a heavy kick to the back of Jericho's head, causing him to fall sideways, cracking his head on the ground.

Sarah stood alone against the Raider. He turned to her, his eyes shifting crazily in his filthy head, his arms twitching and scratching at each other. His cheek muscle gave a few twitches, while his blood encrusted, blackened nails scratched roughly at his track-mark covered arms. Sarah was shocked at the number of track-marks. They dotted his arms like a macabre game of Tic Tac Toe. They even dotted his bare, thin torso.

"I'm going to have fun with you and your friends. Especially you, so pretty. I wonder if you'll still be so pretty with no skin?" The Raider said quickly in a low voice as he approached Sarah with a twisted and blackened grin plastered on his face. Instead of responding, Sarah leveled her Laser Rifle at his face. She quickly squeezed the trigger, sending a searing hot beam into the Raider's face. He howled in pain this time, his hands gripping at his burnt face.

"You fucking cunt! You'll pay for that!" The Raider snarled, letting go of his face and rushing at her. Sarah saw this coming and quickly side-stepped the move, allowing the Raider to slam into a grimy table covered with various alcohols and instruments used for torture. The bottles broke, the Raider landing on his stomach in the glass. A bloody lawn mower blade impaled his shoulder. He stood up, bits of broken glass stuck in his skin. He howled with rage at the lawn mower blade that stuck out of his shoulder before he grabbed it and ripped it out with a sick wet sound. He rushed Sarah again as she quickly fired at him. The shots hit him, but didn't slow his barreling advance. He slammed into her with a battle cry, taking them both to the ground. He gripped the blade with both hands and roughly stabbed it towards her face. Sarah grabbed his wrists at the last moment, holding the blade back. The Raider was surprisingly strong for his thin stature.

The Raider had to be addicted to the most volatile drugs. Med-X would cause his numbness to pain, Psycho his uncontrollable rage, and Buffout his strength. The tip of the blade caressed the tip of Sarah's nose. 'No. I'm not dying this way. Not at the hands of some fucking junkie Raider who will do God knows what to Ray and Jericho if I die.' Sarah thought. She suddenly brought her knee up, heavily hitting the Raider in the crotch. The sudden force pushed him forward and off of her. He tumbled over her head, the blade clattering away near her hand.

Sarah seized the blade and jumped to her feet at the same time as the Raider. They stood a few feet from one another, like two pugilists before a fight. "You're clever, aren't you? You'd make a good Raider. Why don't you join me? This was my gang after all. I'm a pretty good leader," The Raider offered with a disgusting grin, blood dripping from his lip and to the ground.

"Well, they're all dead now, and you'll join them soon," Sarah snarled in response.

"Such a waste. Oh well, you'll still be fun to torture I guess," The Raider responded with a snarl that bared his blackened teeth. He let out a growl like a rabid dog and rushed her again. She charged him as well. She rammed the lawn mower blade into his stomach, grabbing onto his thin shoulder for leverage. The Raider let out a gasp as the blade rammed into his organs. All the Med-X in the world couldn't help you ignore that pain. His hand weakly clasped at Sarah, who grit her teeth and shoved the blade further. His mouth was trying to form words, but they failed him. Sarah gave him a final rough shove and sent him tumbling off the on-ramp. He fell through the space, his eyes now enraged again, his mouth twisted into a grimace, his hands clasping at the empty space as his arms and legs flailed uselessly. He hit the broken concrete, fresh crimson staining it.

Sarah glanced at the Raider's broken and bloody body, then turned back to help her friends.

...

As the three sat back at the hotel, they looked over their loot from the Raiders' camp.

"I don't know what that last dude was on, but I'm surprised you could take him after he handed me and Ray our asses on a silver platter," Jericho said to Sarah with a grin, nursing a bottle of Whiskey while his hand held his aching head.

Ray grimaced. Sarah let out a small laugh. "Meh, it was easy enough," Sarah said with a small shrug.

"He just caught me by surprise is all. I'd have kicked his ass any other way. What's your excuse, Goody Two Shoes?" Jericho said, glancing at Ray.

"Well, that guy was fast. He caught us all by surprise. I've never seen a Raider move like that before," Ray said.

Jericho grunted in response, leaning back on his bed and taking a heavy shot from the Whiskey bottle. Ray rolled his eyes and looked down at their spoils. They had collected a Chinese Assault Rifle (which Jericho had already called dibs on) , three Frag Grenades, a Nail Board, a battered Missile Launcher, another 10mm Pistol, and a nearly decayed Hunting Rifle.

Sarah was busily fixing the Chinese Assault Rifle, 10mm, and Hunting Rifle. The Frag Grenades were tucked in Ray's backpack and the Baseball Bat, Nail Board, and Missile Launcher would be sold. The Missile Launcher was too big to haul around and the Baseball Bat and Nail Board were very common and not smart to use unless you were very desperate.

Ray glanced at his companions and finally decided to read. Ray was lucky enough that reading was a skill that had been passed down through his mother's family. His mother had then taught his father and finally they taught him. He pulled out his battered copy of "Tales of a Junktown Jerky Vendor" and began to read while his compatriots went about their own tasks.

...

About two hours later, Sarah had all the weapons repaired and the three went outside for a test shot. They stood about thirty feet from the bottles that Sarah had set up, their weapons at the ready. Jericho went first with his Chinese Assault Rifle, easily shattering five of the bottles with his first five shots. Ray went next, awkwardly holding the Hunting Rifle and missing all of the bottles. Ray looked down at the rifle, feeling embarrassed. He couldn't even shoot some fucking bottles with a Hunting Rifle. He felt like turning the gun on himself.

"Well, that was embarrassing," Jericho remarked, a mocking tone in his voice.

"I'm better with a pistol," Ray snapped back, glaring daggers at Jericho. Jericho made an angry cat noise and went back to fiddling with his Chinese Assault Rifle. Sarah stepped forward, a thoughtful look on her face.

"One of the problems is your form. It's all wrong. No offense," She said, gesturing for Ray to hand her the rifle, "This is how you're supposed to hold a rifle," Sarah explained after Ray handed her the Hunting Rifle. She stood with her feet apart, one slightly in front of the other. The stock of the gun planted firmly against her shoulder, her other hand firmly grasping the grip near the barrel of the weapon. Ray gave understanding nods as she explained, comparing her professional form to his own inexperienced one. Ray had had the stock under his arm, his feet a little too close together. Completely the opposite of the correct form.

On the next trial, Ray copied Sarah's form and was a little more comfortable holding the Hunting Rifle. He even managed to hit one of the bottles. As the bottle shattered Ray let out a cry of victory while Sarah clapped and Jericho rolled his eyes and said, "'Bout time."

Ray practiced holding the rifle and getting used to the form. He would've practiced shooting, but the rifle hardly had any ammo. After they had some Mole Rat meat roasted over their little campfire, they headed back into the hotel room.

...

They lay in their beds, gentle moonlight cascading into the room from the spaces between the curtains. Small snores came from Jericho, Sarah let out peaceful coos of sleep, and Ray lay awake. He simply couldn't sleep, he was too worried about Burke and Talon Company. They were always there, lurking in the shadows in the back of his mind. He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by voices outside of the hotel room's door. They were deep and simple, the voices of Super Mutants.

Ray could see their massive, sickly yellow bodies standing outside the window. "I saw fire here. Humans are here!" One of the Mutants insisted.

"Then where humans? You too stupid to find humans!" A second Mutant growled at the first.

"I saw fire! Wait," The Mutant heavily sniffed at the air, "I smell humans too. Close."

Ray sharply pulled air into his lungs. The shadows moved closer to the door. Ray quickly and silently crawled out of his bed and towards Sarah's sleeping form. He shook her shoulder, stirring her from sleep. "What?" Sarah grumbled, swatting his hand away. Ray said nothing and pointed to the shapes that spoke outside of their room. Now wide awake, Sarah grabbed her Laser Rifle and crawled out of her bed to crouch beside Ray. They made their way over to Jericho. He grumbled a little louder than Sarah, but quickly went silent when he saw the shapes of the Super Mutants.

"Hear that? That humans!" A third Mutant yelled, its voice deeper than the other two.

"That sounded like an Overlord," Sarah whispered, her eyes locked on the door.

"A what?" Ray responded.

"A Super Mutant Overlord. They are basically commanders of the other Muties," Sarah explained quietly. Suddenly the Mutants began pounding on the door.

"FOUND YOU!" One of them bellowed. The three leveled their weapons at the door, waiting for the inevitable. The door flew off its hinges and slammed into the room from a final blow by the Overlord's Super Sledge. "Stop hiding! Can smell your fear." The Mutants entered the room, barely able to fit through the door. From their hiding spot underneath Jericho's bed, Ray, Sarah, and Jericho watched the Super Mutants' massive feet trample the carpet. The Mutants looked about the room and the bathroom, throwing open the fridge and cabinet, shouting taunts and telling them to come out.

"You so stupid. There no humans here! You waste time!" The Overlord bellowed.

There was a sound of something hitting tough flesh, most likely the Super Sledge, followed by a Mutant cry of pain. "Look under bed! Smell strong by there," The other Mutant responded in a voice colored with pain. The three held their breath as the Overlord's massive feet stomped over to the bed. Its sickly yellow fingers appeared on the frame, then the bed was tossed aside like a child's toy. The trio let out gasps as a look of satisfaction appeared on the Overlord's disgusting face.

"FOUND YOU!" It bellowed as it pulled out its Super Sledge. It gripped the massive metal hammer in both fists, swinging it downward with incredible strength. The three managed to jump out of the way in the brink of time, Ray and Jericho rolling to the sides and Sarah darting between its legs. As she moved, Sarah drew her Combat Knife, slashing a deep cut into the Overlord's tree trunk leg. It let out a cry of pain and rage as thick blood leaked down its leg. The Overlord spun around, swinging the massive Super Sledge in a downward stroke at Sarah. She dove to the side, nearly crashing into the other Mutants. The Sledge struck one of the other Mutant's feet, causing him to bellow in pain. Sarah ran out of the hotel room, her Laser Rifle firing wildly at the pursuing Overlord.

Jericho fired a burst of gunfire from his Chinese Assault Rifle into the chest of the Mutant who had his foot smashed by the Overlord. The Mutant let out a loud snarl and grabbed Jericho by his arm. "Get off me you stupid ugly fuck!" Jericho snarled at the Mutant, batting it with his rifle. The Mutant bellowed at him and threw him effortlessly out the door, grabbing the Nail Board that it dropped when the Overlord had smashed its foot and following Jericho out of the room.

Ray looked with panic at the sneering face of the Mutant that he was now alone with. "Give up and we won't hurt you too bad," The Mutant snarled at him as it raised the blood encrusted Nail Board it held. Ray darted past the Mutant, grabbing the pin out of the Frag Grenade that hung at its waist. The Mutant let out a cry of anger and swung the Nail Board at Ray. Ray dove outside, feeling the air whistling from the board as it narrowly missed the back of his head. The Mutant quickly grabbed the Frag Grenade from its waist and threw it after Ray. The grenade landed behind the Overlord instead before exploding and peppering its back with shrapnel. Luckily, the explosion missed Ray and his friends. Ray hauled himself to his feet and began firing his 10mm wildly at the Super Mutant that emerged from the hotel room.

The Overlord swung the Super Sledge in a strong horizontal strike at Sarah. She ducked and fired her Laser Rifle into its thick legs. The Overlord shouted in rage at the top of its lungs. It swung the Super Sledge in a vertical strike. Sarah rolled out of the way, firing at the Overlord's face. She was growing tired. The damn thing just wouldn't die! She was breathing heavily, soaked in sweat, her ponytail loose causing several strands of her hair to hang loosely. She couldn't keep this up much longer.

Jericho fired another burst of gunfire into the Mutant's torso. The Mutant howled and quickly swung the Nail Board. He tried to dodge the blow, but wasn't quick enough; the Nail Board caught the back of his legs. "You fuck!" Jericho howled at the Mutant. The Mutant let out a burst of laughter that sounded more like someone choking. Jericho ignored the pain that ripped through his legs and fired into the face of the laughing Mutant. The Mutant stopped laughing as the gunfire practically tore its head apart, killing it instantly. "Timber!" Jericho shouted with a bark of mocking laughter as the Super Mutant hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

Ray fired a shot into the Mutant's kneecap, shattering it. The Mutant fell to one knee and bellowed pain mixed with rage at Ray. Despite its injury, the Mutant continued to swing the Nail Board at Ray, a little sloppier this time. Ray jumped over the swing and fired a sloppy shot into the Mutant's neck. Suddenly Jericho came barreling out of nowhere. He jumped, planting his feet against the Mutant's chest and riding it to the ground like it was a surfboard. The Mutant sloppily swung the Nail Board at Jericho, the swing missing completely. Jericho shoved his Chinese Assault Rifle into the face of the Mutant, firing a long burst of bullets into its skull. "YOU LIKE THAT?" Jericho howled at the Mutant. After the Mutant's head was obliterated, he leapt off the Mutant's chest and onto the concrete.

Sarah fired into the Overlord's charred face again after barely managing to dodge a swing from the Super Sledge. The Overlord seemed weaker, but not greatly phased by the shots from her Laser Rifle. Jericho went darting past, firing his Chinese Assault Rifle into the Overlord. "Come get me you stupid fucking freak!" He taunted. The Overlord howled with rage as it watched Jericho run past. It suddenly grabbed Sarah by her arm and flung her after the ex-Raider. She missed him as she soared through the air, instead slamming roughly into the side of a burned out car.

Jericho led the Overlord away from Sarah, firing round after round into the Overlord's chest and head. He suddenly stopped running and dodged the huge swing that the Overlord had aimed for him. As Jericho fired at and dodged the Overlord, Ray snuck behind it and ripped the pin out of the Frag Grenade the hung at its waist. The Overlord didn't notice this, but it noticed Ray when it nearly stepped on him. "GET AWAY STUPID HUMAN!" The Overlord howled as it kicked him aside like a dog. He landed several feet away and pain exploded through Ray's torso and knocked the air out of his lungs. He coughed and sputtered, struggling to bring more air into his lungs.

The Frag Grenade at the Overlord's waist exploded, blasting it in two. The Overlord was miraculously still alive as it looked down at its severed waist. Its bloody entrails lay against the hot concrete, blood leaking from its disgusting mouth. The Overlord writhed in agony, coughing and spitting out blood. Jericho approached its torso, a sneer on his face. "Can't be..." The Overlord said weakly, in clear disbelief of its own death as it weakly reached an oversized yellow hand toward Jericho.

"Too bad it is," Jericho responded with a sadistic grin as he leveled his Chinese Assault Rifle at the Overlord's face. He let a long burst of gunfire into the Overlord's head, ending its suffering. Jericho put his rifle back onto its strap and let it hang against his back. He walked over to Ray, hauling him to his feet. "You okay?"

"I think so," Ray said, rubbing his now aching, previously broken ribs. They didn't feel re-broken, but they hurt like hell. "We gotta get Sarah." Ray and Jericho rushed over to where Sarah lay. They crouched beside her, Ray carefully rolled her from her side and onto her back. She grit her teeth as the pain worsened with the sudden movement.

"Are you okay?" Jericho asked weakly.

"I got thrown into a car by a stupid fucking Mutant, so I'm pretty great!" Sarah snapped sarcastically, "Sorry. Can you help me up?" She tacked on in a calmer voice, holding out her arms. Ray wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders while Jericho did the same with the other. They carefully lifted her up and helped her back towards the hotel room. "So, you like having your arm wrapped around my shoulders, Sarah?" Jericho asked, jokingly giving her his mischievous grin.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "You're more disturbing than the Super Mutants." Ray laughed while Jericho gave a small grin at his success to lighten the situation.


	11. Cleaning Up

**_Author's Note: Finally, after the longest wait ever, this part is complete! First of all, I would like to apologize to my readers for the ridiculous amount of time that has passed since my last update. I was hoping to get a lot more done over the summer, but writer's block and distractions are a deadly combination... Plus the fact that my writing program decided to shit itself and not let me open anything so I had to switch to a whole new program -_- Thanks for being a douche OpenOffice..._**

**_Thanks to Scryo117 for adding this story to alerts :D And thanks to all my reviewers :)_**

**_I also uploaded my second on-going story about an evil Lone Wanderer, it's titled From The Vault (title is subject to change)and it's a continuation with the LW from Bye Bye Butch but you can find it on my profile if you want to read it, obviously :P_**

**_As always, enjoy!_**

Wasteland Survival Part 12

Burke sat hunched over his desk, his hands busily going about their work, when he heard the door hesitantly open. "What is it now? I'm quite busy," He barked, angrily slamming down the screwdriver and steam gauge assembly.

Jabsco approached the desk where Burke was busily making something. "It's Jabsco, I nee- what are you doing?" He asked curiously, changing his words after he saw that Burke was making something.

Burke picked up his tools, continuing his work as he spoke. "As you have been failing to bring me results, I am taking some precautions."

"What are you talking about?" Jabsco asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the bizarre contraption in Burke's hand.

"I've been working on a few little... projects."

"Cut the shit Burke. What are you doing?" Jabsco asked, losing patience and quickly regretting it after he remembered his last visit. He bit the inside of his cheek and went silent.

Burke gave him an icy glare. "These are special bombs. If you haven't noticed, I was trying to keep a little furtiveness. These are unlike other bombs, whose reason for existence is to kill, destroy. When detonated, these bombs are to sedate and stun," Burke explained sharply. Jabsco realized he had been holding his breath as Burke finished speaking. He quietly let out a sigh of relief.

"That's pretty pointless. Why would you want a non-lethal bomb?" Jabsco asked, confused.

"If our little... problem, comes here. I would at least like to watch as he dies," Burke responded simply.

Jabsco gave Burke a look. "Anyway, the main reason I came here is to tell you my new plan for the target. If you can get me some more copies of the target's picture, I can send multiple teams after him."

Burke slammed down his tools again. "WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE?! A FUCKING COPY MACHINE?!" He roared, his face turning bright red.

Jabsco had no idea what the hell a copy machine was, but he responded anyways. "I'm sorry, but this is the best way," Jabsco said firmly, flinching back slightly from the volume of Burke's voice. He produced the drawing from the collar of his Metal Armor, holding it out to Burke. He snatched the drawing away from Jabsco, putting it near his tools.

"Fine. I'll see if Gustavo's technician finally got that copier working. I'll have them ready in a bit. Go get something to eat or go to the bar," Burke said, calmer this time as he waved a dismissive hand at Jabsco.

Jabsco turned to leave, his jaw clenching and unclenching as murderous thoughts raced through his mind. "Oh, and Commander?" Burke called.

"Yes?" Jabsco hissed, turning to face Burke.

"How's your finger?" Burke asked in a smooth, almost smug tone, his back turned to Jabsco as he sat at his desk.

Jabsco looked down at his left hand, seeing the cleaved off pinkie of his hand and glove. He gave the back of Burke's head an icy glare. "The doctor couldn't do anything," He said in a cold tone.

"That's a shame," Burke said in a voice oozing with mock sympathy. Seeing red, Jabsco gave Burke another glare. Looking to his left he saw an expensive looking bottle of wine on top of a filing cabinet. Jabsco took a daring move and snatched the bottle of wine, turning on his heel and walking out the door, all in one fluid movement before he slammed the door behind him.

As Jabsco exited the tower without waiting for Burke to make the copies, he made a vow to himself. After he killed this Wastelander and collected his pay, he would personally and slowly kill Burke, then Talon Company would raze Tenpenny Tower. Nobody fucked with Commander Jabsco. Nobody.

...

Ray and Jericho dragged Sarah into the hotel room, gently placing her on her bed. "Oh God, you're bleeding!" Ray pointed out a large cut that was now staining through a rip in her shirt. Sarah glanced down at her stomach, seeing the rich crimson staining the white fabric.

"I'll take care of it, just give me the bathroom for a bit. Jericho, if you try to peep, I'll shove your eyes up your ass," Sarah grumbled, managing to stand with little assistance.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Ray offered as he gently helped her to her feet.

"No. I got it. I didn't get to Sentinel by whining over every little bruise and scrape," Sarah said assertively as she limped to the bathroom.

"You sure?" Jericho asked, his eyes following her.

Sarah had made it to the doorway of the bathroom. She supported herself against the door frame as she spoke. "Look, I'm not one of these little princesses that need rescuing, so stop worrying. I can take care of myself," She said firmly. "If I can kick Jericho's ass, I'll be alright," She tacked on in a more joking tone, even managing a grin. Ray and Jericho gave small grins of response and watched as she shut the bathroom door.

"Those stupid muties fucked my leg up pretty good," Jericho said with a slight groan, walking with a small limp, although it seemed he was holding a lot of the pain back. He sat on his bed, bringing his leg closer to examine it. Blood stuck his Leather Armor to his leg, and made it smell not so pleasant. "Oh damn! Jericho, you better sanitize that with some of the alcohol, I'll get some medical supplies from Sarah," Ray said as he watched Jericho struggle to roll his pants leg up. Ray grabbed a bottle of Vodka from the glass cabinet, the glass now slightly cracked in a small area from the Super Mutant's ransacking, and tossed it to Jericho. He caught the bottle easily and mumbled a thanks.

Ray gave Jericho a nod and turned to the bathroom door, giving a small knock. "Um, kinda half naked and sewing myself up in here?" Sarah called, followed by a small, barely audible whimper of pain.

Ray awkwardly cleared his throat. "Jericho's leg is ripped up, can you spare a Stimpak and some bandages?"

"Yeah, hold on," Sarah responded. There was a fumbling sound followed by a "God damn it!"

Ray looked at the door. "Umm, everything okay in there?"

"Yeah, the First Aid Kit just decided to fly off the sink. Here," She finished, the door opening just a crack as Sarah pushed the supplies out.

"Thanks," Ray said, taking the items before making his way over to Jericho. Somehow, Jericho had hobbled out the door and now sat on the hot concrete, his pants leg rolled up to his knee while he doused the back of his calve with the Vodka.

"How's it coming?" Ray asked as he handed the supplies to Jericho.

"It burns," Jericho said, baring his teeth a little as the alcohol burned through the wound. Jericho sat the supplies next to him as Ray walked into the now dead battlefield.

"What should we do with all these bodies?" Ray called, nudging a Super Mutant with the toe of his boot.

"Fuck if I know. All I know is they can't be laying there, and they're going to be a bitch to move," Jericho replied with a grimace as he injected the Stimpak into his leg.

"Burying them would take to long and burn too much energy. Burning them would be like painting a target on our foreheads," Ray said, thinking aloud.

"Let's stash 'em in one of those gross rooms up top," Jericho offered, glancing at said rooms.

"And how do you suggest we get them up there? They weigh like six hundred pounds," Ray grunted as he tried to lift one.

"I don't know," Jericho grumbled, getting a little irritated with Ray's questions as he wrapped the bandages around his leg.

"Alright, I'm back," Sarah said, hobbling through the doorway to join Ray and Jericho. "How you doing?" She asked Jericho.

"Fine, just got caught by one of those dumbass nail boards," Jericho explained as he motioned to his bandages. "What about you?"

"I've had worse," Sarah said with a sigh and a shrug, taking a seat on the concrete.

"Sarah, we have to do something about these bodies. If we leave them out here, someone would know they are fresh and might come looking to investigate. Jericho suggested we put them in the hotel rooms up top. Any idea as to how we get them up there?" Ray explained, still trying to drag the Super Mutant.

Its skin was very bizarre. Tough and leathery, yet kind of greasy. With a grunt, Ray gave another rough pull. His hands slid off of the abomination's disgusting flesh, causing him to stumble and nearly land on his backside. Ray quickly caught himself, seeking retribution by delivering a strong kick to the dead mutant's face. Of course, Jericho burst out laughing, while Sarah looked as though she was holding her laughter back. Ray shot them a glare, "So what do you think?" He asked again, a bit more sharply.

Sarah's face fell back to her usual businesslike seriousness. "It's impossible to lift them up by hand, even with all three of us. Maybe we could try to build a pulley or something and push them in there?"

"We don't really have time to build shit, sweetness," Jericho responded, looking at her matter-of-factly.

Sarah shot him an icy glare. "I can build shit quickly," Sarah sniped back, her eyes boring into his.

Jericho broke away from her gaze with a small huff, looking down at his leg.

"You two can argue later, how about we do something about these Mutants before someone comes along?" Ray broke in, his voice colored in urgency.

...

*A few hours later...

Ray tightened the rope around the Mutant's torso, grimacing from the smell emanating from it's dirty body. "Okay, pull!" He called back to Doc Hoff.

Sarah had been in the middle of constructing some strange looking pulley when Doc Hoff's caravan came through. The good doctor was obviously less than jazzed to see Ray and Jericho (mostly Jericho) but he grudgingly agreed to help them move the Mutants. He was obviously curious as to why they wanted to hide the Super Mutants, to which they replied that they just wanted to keep a low profile. Doc Hoff gave a shrug, said he also specialized in confidentiality, and agreed to help.

Doc Hoff ushered his Brahmin forward, the strong beast beginning to drag the Mutant closer to the Hotel. The Mutant dragged across the ground, leaving behind small amounts of blood that leaked from its bullet wounds. When the Mutant had been dragged close enough to the hotel, the rope was untied, tossed over a protruding horizontal pole that used to support a roof to the upper walkway, and then retied to the Mutant. Then, Sarah, Ray, and Jericho had to reach out and grab the dangling abomination and pull it inside the hotel. Repeat this three exhausting times and all the Super Mutants had been placed in the upper room with the dead chem junkie.

The trio leapt from the walkway, Jericho heaving a sigh and hobbling to sit down on the concrete. "I need a fucking smoke," He gasped, heaving himself on the sidewalk and fishing for his cigarettes.

"Well then, what do we owe you?" Ray asked, glancing at Doc Hoff.

The doctor looked them over, giving Jericho a distasteful look. "Well I can only assume you don't have much, so just help me get this rope back on my Brahmin and we'll try to stay out of each others' way for awhile," Hoff said, once again glancing at Jericho. Jericho caught him this time and shot the doctor a glare as he slowly blew smoke from his nostrils. Doc Hoff looked away, awkwardly clearing his throat and adjusting his tie.

"Uh, just ignore him, that's what I do," Sarah said, breaking the awkward silence, "We also have some things we would like to sell, if you're interested in buying."

"Things of what nature?" Doc Hoff inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Alcohol along with a few weapons," Ray responded.

"I'll gladly buy the alcohol, but weapons are a trickier item. I don't usually carry them, but I suppose it would do business good if I carried some ordinance," Hoff mumbled, rubbing his stubbly chin in thought, "Alright, I'll take a look, but I'm not going to guarantee anything."

Ray gave a nod and jogged towards their hotel room to retrieve the items. He made the trips by himself, not that he minded. With an apology, Sarah had gone to sit near Jericho as she had begun to ache from her injuries. Soon, all the weapons and other items had been laid in front of Hoff. He looked over the weapons, three Nail Boards, one Missile Launcher, and a Baseball Bat. The Super Sledge had been claimed by Jericho, though Ray doubted if Jericho could even swing the thing without breaking his back, along with two bottles of Whiskey that had gone "missing." A few bottles of Vodka would be kept for sanitization of any wounds. Three bottles of Wine, two bottles of Scotch, a bottle of Vodka, and a bottle of Whiskey were also laid in front of Hoff.

Hoff grabbed the bottles, stuffing them into the large bag of supplies that rested on his Brahmin's back. "I'll give you...eighty caps for the alcohol," Hoff began, retrieving a small bag of caps and tossing them to Ray.

"EIGHTY CAPS? YOU TRYING TO RIP US OFF, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!?" Jericho suddenly roared at the doctor, throwing his cigarette to the ground as spittle flew from his lips.

Hoff flinched at the sudden outburst, but quickly composed himself. "I suggest you contain your...traveling companion, before I have my mercenary put him down," Hoff said firmly, his eyes boring into Ray's. The mercenary cocked his rifle at that, his cold, dead eyes giving Ray a glare and rolling to focus on Jericho.

Ray spun on his heel to face Jericho. His gut was telling him that Hoff had had enough of Jericho, and wasn't fucking around. "Jericho. Shut the hell up and let me take care of this!" Ray barked, surprised by his own anger. Jericho scowled, but said nothing. He picked up his cigarette, taking a long drag and rose to stalk back to the hotel room, dragging the Super Sledge behind him. Ray rolled his eyes and turned back to Hoff. "What do you think about the weapons?"

Hoff made a small clicking sound with his tongue as he thought. "Well," He said finally after a few seconds, "I'm not going to sugar coat it, they're beat to hell, and would honestly be better off as firewood."

Ray sighed, his shoulders drooping a little. "But," Hoff suddenly said, "I see potential in the Missile Launcher. It's in horrible condition, but if I spruce it up, I bet I could sell it for at least five hundred caps, or trade it to another caravan for extra medical supplies. I'll give you one hundred, but not a cap more."

"I'll take it," Ray said with a sigh. He was exhausted and in no mood for further negotiation. Hoff motioned for his mercenary to pick up the Missile Launcher before he turned around and began fishing for another bag of pre-sorted caps in the large haul that the Brahmin carried on its back. After finding the correct bag, he handed it to Ray. "Now, let's keep out of each other's way for a while," Hoff stated firmly, glancing towards the hotel room once again. He gave Ray a brisk nod and walked away at a quickened pace. The mercenary gave Ray a glare and followed suit.

...

Ray went into the hotel room, laying on his bed.

"What time is it?" Jericho asked, his voice dripping irritation as he struggled to get the door back on its hinges.

Ray grabbed his bag and pulled out the battered wristwatch that his father had made. "3:15," Ray stated simply, his eyelids feeling like they each weighed a ton.

"God damn stupid fucking muties comin' in here, fucking everything up," Jericho griped as he tightened the screws on the door rougher then necessary. Ray sighed at Jericho's volume and turned away from him, shutting his eyes tightly and letting sleep swallow him.

...

Voices faded in and out, sounding strange and warped. Ray slowly opened his eyes, listening to the unfamiliar, muffled voices. He sat up, seeing only the reddish brown door of the hotel room. There was a shotgun blast, tearing through the handle of the door spraying wood and the door's construct all over the floor. Ray jumped back, diving for weapons that were no longer there. The door was kicked in by a black boot, matched with all too familiar black Combat Armor. Four Talons burst in, waving their weapons and shouting. Sarah and Jericho jumped up, eyes widening at the sight of the mercs. The lead merc brought his Combat Shotgun to eye level, aiming at Sarah's head.

"No!" Ray shouted, diving at the merc. The merc squeezed the trigger once, sending buckshot into Sarah's head. Brilliant crimson could be spotted with the muzzle flash. "No!" Ray howled again smashing into the mercenary. The merc swung the gun and hit Ray roughly backwards, sending him toppling over the coffee table. The merc fired again, catching Jericho this time. "No! Sarah! Jericho!" Ray was shouting, the loss making him feel as if he was filled with lead. Ray began to push himself up, ready to kill the mercs with his bare hands, his face filled with anguish and murderous rage. The merc planted his heavy boot against Ray's chest, stomping him back to the floor.

The merc said nothing, his dark, yet familiar face blank. Ray closed his eyes and pushed back against the boot with a grunt. The merc put more weight on his boot, forcing the air out of Ray and making him feel like his chest was about to cave in. Something wet dripped on his face, causing him to open his eyes. He touched his face, rubbing the stuff between his fingers. Blood? He looked up at the merc with confusion, gasping at what he saw.

It was the Talon that Jericho had saved him from back in Megaton, complete with the hole in his head, courtesy of Jericho's old shotgun. The merc smiled, showing decaying teeth. "Hey Ray old pal! Remember me?" He said cheerily in a gravely ruined voice close to that of a Ghoul's. Ray could only gape at the dead merc. His skin a deadly pale, the hole in his head dripping blood and gray matter, bits of his skull showing. "Burke just wanted me to say hi! And see you in hell!" The merc continued, leveling his Combat Shotgun at Ray with the last word. He pulled the trigger, white enveloping Ray's vision.

...

Ray jerked bolt upright in the bed. Panting and covered in a cold sweat, he looked about the room. His compatriots were in their beds, sleeping peacefully. He put his face in his palms, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. The room felt too hot, too stuffy. He swung his legs out of bed, heading to the hotel door and pulling it open. He stepped outside, taking in the cold morning air. It must've been around 5 A.M. The night chill still in the air, only the edge of the sun rising above the horizon, making the landscape look somewhat eerie. Ray sat outside the hotel room, propping himself up against the hotel wall to the left of the door.

He let out a small sigh and folded his arms behind his head, looking at the lazily rising sun. His eyes caught a small barely noticeable glint on a cliff, there, then gone. His stomach did an uneasy flip and his arms slowly lowered back to his sides. His eyes scanned the far off cliff, struggling and slightly squinting to see the glint again. It never came, but his instincts were screaming at him. As much as he tried and wanted to play it off as paranoia, his instincts had never led him wrong. He rose to his feet, his scanning the horizon as he backed into the dark hotel room.

...

The Talons looked out from their perch on the cliff, their scouter taking interest in a hotel. "What the hell are you looking at?" Another Talon barked at him.

"Something that's gonna make your day," the scouter responded, his grin stretched across his thin lips as he lowered the binoculars from his squinty eyes.

The other Talon, who was the leader in this small group, strolled over to his compatriot. He was a smug looking man known only by the name of Rilon, and he was as crooked as they came, even for a Talon. Rilon looked at the young scouter before snagging the binoculars from his hands and raising them to eye level.

Looking through the lenses, he scanned along the hotel and there, sitting by a door with his arms casually folded behind his head, was the man from the drawing, the target, in the flesh. Rilon let out a victory cry as he saw the target lounging against the wall. "Target confirmed boys!" He said proudly, handing the binoculars back to the scouter, who raised them back to his eyes. The others talked and celebrated a bit too early, while the scouter watched the man for a moment. The target suddenly turned his head the slightest, his eyes boring into the scouter's through the binoculars. The scouter let a small gasp, lowering the binoculars. "Are you sure he can't see us?" He asked Rilon, who gave him a cold look.

"I'm positive. Why the fuck you reacting like that? I know this is your first job, but he's just a Waster for fuck's sake," He snarled.

"He looked right at me though," The scouter responded, "What if he gets away?"

Rilon gave him a deadly glare. "Shut your fucking mouth. Now. You want to be a Talon, you can't be acting like a little bitch," He spat, looking at him with anger, before he stormed angrily past the rookie scouter, in the direction of the hotel. "You better grow up right now, because we're gonna blast this dumbass," He concluded in a dark and satisfied tone.


	12. Ex-Raider Revelations

_**Author's Note: I would like to apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took for this chapter to be finished. I recently started writing again about a week ago because I was having much stress and hardly any time to write. I would've liked to make up for it with a long chapter but this chapter is quite short and very talky, so sorry for lovers of action out there. The next chapter should have plenty though, so yay!**_

Wasteland Survival Part 13

The fire gave off small pops and crackles as the speared cuts of Mole Rat perched over the greedily lapping flames. "So, what are we going to do about our supply situation? We don't have enough caps to supply all of us to take on Talon Company, hell we hardly have enough to supply only one of us with functioning weapons and armor," Sarah asked Ray as she picked at her food.

Ray stopped eating and thought for a second. "That's a really good question. I guess we could look for work, scavenging is not going to make us very many caps."

"Now hold up. What kinda work you thinking? I don't do manual labor, more of a hands on kinda guy," Jericho said matter-of-factly, smacking his lips as he chewed.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sarah asked as she shot him a strange look.

"I'm not going to do some stupid shit like being a delivery boy or helping people. I can do some mercenary work, like guarding or killing," Jericho responded, taking a large bite out of his Mole Rat shish-kebab.

"Guess that would be more, err, in demand. Maybe if we could guard a caravan or something we could get a job guarding it. Do they have any requirements or what?" Ray said.

"They usually don't really care as long as you can shoot a gun and aren't going to rob them. Well from my experiences anyway," Jericho responded with a small shrug.

"Were you a caravan guard? I thought you were a Raider pretty much your whole life?" Ray asked quizzically.

Sarah's eyes widened slightly, looking at Jericho in a suspicious manner.

Jericho didn't notice and instead took a hefty bite out of his Mole Rat. "I was. I tried to get with a caravan after Talon Company killed my first group, but the pay was shit. So I started skimming a little off some of the supplies, you can imagine how that ended and how I got back into the Raider game."

"I should've known you're a Raider. Ray! How can you travel with this guy?! Who the fuck knows what he's done?" Sarah suddenly outburst, reaching for her Laser Rifle.

Ray stammered for a response while Jericho tried to quickly explain.

"I'm not a Raider anymore god damn it! I was fucked up when I was younger, but I'm a changed man. I'm too old for that shit and I couldn't take it anymore," Jericho suddenly shouted, grabbing Sarah's wrist to stop her from grabbing the rifle.

Sarah jerked her hand away as if she had almost touched a poisonous snake. "Still. Any trust I had for you is gone. If any even existed. I know what you people do. You fucking raping, thieving, murderer. I kill Raiders; it's part of my job, and I love doing my job."

"Sarah, you don't understand," Ray pleaded, trying desperately to restore the calm. He had no idea why he was sticking up for Jericho. The man was still atrocious, but he couldn't deny that he had changed greatly.

"I've been out of the Raiding game for, hell, fifteen damn years. No shit it wasn't pretty, but you were so high most of the time you hardly realized how much you were hurting people. I didn't like it at first, but you go numb to it and even start to enjoy it eventually. Then you just steal and kill for money to lose your sobriety and support all the fucking addictions you pick up. I used to think it was fun, when I was higher than a fucking kite. Psycho, Jet, and Med-Ex are a hell of a combo, especially when washed down with some heavy Whiskey. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I was sick from all the god damn drugs, addicted to pretty much everything out there. I was about fifty when I left. The drugs were killing me, and the other Raiders had started to hate me and disrespect me, saying I was just a washed up old junkie at that point. I was, I'll admit it," He paused, sighing and looking into the fire before speaking again.

"I left the group I was with and wandered to Megaton. Doc Church helped me through my addictions and Lucas Simms eventually saw that I was the best shot in town other than himself and I took it upon myself to help out when we got attacked by Raiders or whoever wanted to fuck with us. Just my luck that one day my old crew turns up, throwing shit over the walls, harassing caravans, and trying to break in, so I walked out there and killed them all my damn self. I'll admit I'm no Saint, I still get drunk as fuck, enjoy fighting and killing shit a little too much, but I feel like I redeemed myself. Killing the men and women I used to call family was an even bigger wake-up call than walking away from them," Jericho finished strongly, his eyes leaving Sarah's to bore into the fire.

"I- wow..." Ray said, not sure of how to respond. He felt a strange sense of respect for Jericho since he realized what the man had been through.

Sarah silently chewed at her lip, looking guilty before she finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I judged you a little too quickly, but after I heard you were a Raider it just set me off. I'm supposed to kill Raiders, Enclave, Super Mutants, whatever poses a threat, with extreme prejudice. I still don't know what to think of you, but...you're not half bad," Sarah said, casting a glance and an apologetic grin at Jericho.

"It's fine kitty cat, you should've seen how Lucas Simms reacted after I told him about it," Jericho said calmly, a chuckle escaping from him, "That guy shit a brick and a half, then we got into it. After we beat the shit out of each other, he said he'd keep an eye on me and if I fucked up one time he'd kill me without a second thought. We clearly aren't much closer but at least if I get in fights or whatever he tolerates me instead of keeping to that promise," Jericho continued.

"God. Stop calling me kitty cat," Sarah groaned, putting her face in her hands.

"Nah. I think I'll continue," Jericho said with a grin. The three laughed, Sarah surprising them both when she joined in the laughter.

...

The Talon adjusted the binoculars, focusing on the, now laughing, trio. "What are they doing now?"

"They're laughing. Most bi-polar group I've ever seen. I don't know what to make of the two he's got with him. There's a pretty blonde girl, in her twenties, and an older guy, in his fifties or sixties. Old guy seems pretty spry though, grabbed the girl's arm before she grabbed a Laser Rifle. Looked like they were fighting, then the old guy talks for awhile, now they're all laughing. What are we supposed to do with the other two?" The scouter said.

"I bet Eulogy would pay nicely for the girl. The old guy we could just kill. If he's a good fighter and we don't kill him though, we could sell him too. People pay good caps for a decent bodyguard, even better for a young pretty girl to take care of them, if you know what I mean. I see caps all over them. Give me those binoculars," Rilon said enthusiastically as he snatched the binoculars from the young scouter, now eager to see the group.

"I thought the commander said to kill anyone associated with the target, and to not deal with Eulogy anymore?" The scouter asked.

Rilon slowly lowered the binoculars, casting a cold stare over at the relatively new scouter. "Guess what? I don't give a fuck what Jetting Jabsco says," He growled before taking a long look through the binoculars. "She is beautiful. Eulogy would definitely pay top dollar. We can get the old guy to prove his worth as a fighter, then we'll try to sell him." He pushed the binoculars roughly into the chest of the scouter, who scrambled to keep them from falling, before turning to his crew. "I want to take this group by surprise, but whatever we do, don't kill anyone but the target, and no head shots damn it! We need this one intact, I don't want it to end up like last time."

...

A few hours later, Ray and his ragtag group decided to scav up some ammo for the upcoming trip to Canterbury Commons, the small town which was the headquarters for the Caravans. As they trekked away from the hotel, Ray could swear he saw the glint again. "Sarah," Ray said, staring in the direction of the glare, "Look up there and tell me if you see something," He said, pointing at the mountain.

Sarah gave Ray a small glance, then nodded, looking in the general direction of the cliff. As if on cue, the small shimmer was there again. "What could that be?" Ray asked.

"It's probably just some broken glass or something. You guys are fucking paranoid," Jericho scoffed, laughing at the two.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the cliff. "Paranoia like that keeps you alive. Especially when you're dealing with Talon Company. My guess is that it could be binoculars or a sniper. Knowing Talons though, they're watching us. Watch your back, keep an ear out for gunshots. I've dealt with snipers more times than I can count. Just hit the ground if you hear a gunshot then look for cover," Sarah said, taking out her Laser Rifle and continuing to walk.

"What if they have a silencer?" Jericho asked.

"Hope the bullet doesn't hit you," Sarah deadpanned.

"That's...helpful," Ray said slowly, not enjoying the thought of taking a .308 round to the brainpan.

"Nothing else you can do unless you can hear the shot," Sarah shrugged, "Let's get going before it gets dark. I remember seeing a gun store a few miles South of here before. It's most likely been raided, but it's our best bet."

...

"They're leaving. Should we go after them?" The Scouter asked Rilon.

"No. I want one of you to follow them and watch them. Give me updates over the radio, but don't attack. There's a lot of caps riding on this and I want it to be nice and clean so we can get paid top dollar. If they don't come back, we'll follow them and take them by surprise. Just be patient, the caps are worth it," He grinned back.

"And what do we do when they get back?"

"Don't worry. I've got a plan," He remarked, his grin growing even wider.

**_Author's Note: I tried to make it show that Jericho is better now than he used to be, although I'm not sure why lol. I guess I'm attempting character development and whatnot. I hope you enjoyed it!_**


	13. Collared

**_Author's Note: As always, I'm sorry for how long this took. School has been rough and I've been watching an unhealthy amount of Alchestbreach videos..._**_** As for news on From The Vault, I've been trying to piece a storyline. Since it started as a one-shot I didn't exactly think it all the way through. I've gotten Alex's background established and I'm working on the storyline, which is coming slowly because I've mostly been thinking of Wasteland Survival. Anyway, enjoy this major chapter!**_

Wasteland Survival Part 14

The gun store Sarah had mentioned was a rather small shop. Nothing too impressive, so it was possibly locally or family owned before the atomic fire consumed the world.

"Sarah, I'm not sure if you noticed this or not, but the front door is boarded up and the windows have bars and boards on them," Jericho said somewhat mockingly, approaching the door and pulling at the boards.

"I already knew that Jericho. I already knocked you on your ass once, are you trying for a second time?" Sarah asked back tauntingly, casting a sidelong glare at Jericho's back.

"Guys? Can we pry our jaws away from each others' throats and act normal for five minutes?" Ray interrupted.

"Fine. But I think you should know that she started it," Jericho grumbled, a playful grin on his face.

Sarah groaned. "Nice to know we're all adults here," Sarah said sarcastically, leading the way around the squat building to a large L-shaped vent on the side of the faded brick. Slinging her Laser Rifle on her back, she approached the vent and began scaling it with her usual grace.

"No way in hell that I'm trying that. I'll just keep watch down here; I've climbed enough shit for a while," Jericho announced to the two before he turned to lean against the side of the building and light a cigarette.

"Suit yourself," Ray mumbled, looking at the vent and hauling himself up onto the lowest part of it. The vent dented and made somewhat loud metallic sounds as it bowed under his feet. He jumped again, one hand landing on the top of the vent and the other landing on the rooftop. Sarah grabbed his arm and hauled him up with a grunt.

...

After finding a loose panel on the roof, the duo moved silently through the small store, smashing Radroaches and grabbing ammo off the already looted shelves. The store was mostly empty, but they managed to find some Microfusion Cells, 5.56 rounds, 10mm rounds, and a damaged 10mm Submachine gun. Looting the safe had given them 30 caps, Pre-War money, and a Scoped .44 Magnum with no ammo. The rest of the store was a mess, with shelves toppled and various worthless items scattered around.

Ray climbed back up through the hole in the ceiling first, chivalrously helping Sarah up. She gave a small smile and nodded to him, before jogging and vaulting off the side of the building. Ray dashed after her in shock, looking down to see her perfectly okay and staring up at him expectantly.

"What? It's a one story building. Not a skyscraper in D.C." She laughed, giving him a cocky smirk.

"Touchè ," He called, before climbing down the air duct. Ray and Sarah walked back to the front of the building where Jericho was keeping watch. Jericho had his back turned to them and was obviously drinking something.

"Jericho!" Ray yelled at the older man.

Jericho whirled around, hiding the bottle behind his back and choking on the amber liquid as he feigned innocence. "Yeah?"

"You're drinking the "missing" Whiskey, right?" Sarah asked sarcastically, giving him a smirk.

"No sir!" Jericho said in a military tone, saluting with his right arm and hurling the empty bottle on top of the gun store with his left. Ray rolled his eyes jokingly before walking past Jericho, slapping him on the shoulder as he went. "Great job keeping watch."

...

The walk back to the hotel was shorter than expected, Sarah watched for the glare as they traveled, but she didn't see it. Either the sniper got smart, or he wasn't a Talon after all. They reached the hotel as the sun dipped behind the clouds, setting the horizon and its neighboring clouds on fire. "Did you see anything, Sarah?" Ray asked as entered the hotel.

"No. If he was a Talon he repositioned so that the sun wouldn't glare on his scope."

"Maybe he was just a curious Wastelander and nothing to worry about, like I told you paranoid jackasses," Jericho grumbled, obviously getting irritated because the walk had made his knees hurt.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last remark. Anyway, that wouldn't be the first time I've seen that happen, nearly had one of my team take out some Waster watching us through his scope, then he saw our sniper aiming back at him and he nearly shit his pants before he started yelling that he was just watching us. It was pretty funny actually," Sarah giggled at the memory.

"Let me guess, you didn't laugh at the time, but told the grunts to shut up while you laughed inside?" Jericho asked sarcastically.

Sarah gave a small grin but spoke in a businesslike tone. "Military leaders are supposed to be serious and never be too lenient. I just told the grunts we have to keep our guard up."

Jericho grunted in response and heaved himself on his bed with a sigh of relief. "Sorry if I'm being more of an asshole than usual. My knees are fucking killing me."

"Sarah, have I been drugged or did Jericho just apologize?" Ray asked jokingly, feigning confusion.

"I think he did. What the hell is going on?" She said, giving Ray a confused look before laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't expect it to happen again," Jericho snapped back.

"Oh, we found some 5.56 rounds for your rifle," Ray said, tossing the box at Jericho, where it landed on his chest.

"Thanks kid," Jericho mumbled, putting the ammo on the floor by his rifle.

"Want me to show you guys how to do some better upkeep on your weapons? It would help us get it done faster when we have to clean or fix them in the future," Sarah offered.

"I could use it. Pretty much taught myself to do it and all my weapons fall apart," Ray said with a chuckle.

"Nah. I'm good for fixing my weapons," Jericho said with a yawn, kicking off his boots and laying on his bed.

"Then why do I always do it?" Sarah responded.

"Because I'm lazy," Jericho grinned before turning over and saying goodnight.

Sarah rolled her eyes and moved to sit on Ray's bed to help him fix the 10mm Submachine gun and the two pistols.

...

The Talons had moved closer and their spotter was looking at the hotel room through his binoculars. "So when should we attack them?"

Rilon chewed his cheek in thought for a moment. "When they go to sleep, then we'll move in to take them."

...

Ray and Jericho had retired to bed and Sarah sat in a chair, looking out the small window as she firmly gripped her Laser Rifle. She was tired, and a quick look at the watch her father had given her showed that it was 2:12 A.M. She sighed. She had always hated keeping watch, mostly due to the boredom that ensued.

Her head drooped again, a loose strand of hair tickling her cheek and startling her awake. It was too early for this! She clenched her jaw and bore her eyes into the darkness, her mind wandering, unaware of the sniper that had her in his sights.

...

"The girl is falling asleep. It's now or never," the sniper announced gruffly.

"Alright let's move in!" Rilon barked.

The young spotter couldn't help but feel heavy guilt. He had only joined up with the Talons because his father had been one, so there was heavy pressure for him to follow in his father's footsteps. "Are you sure about enslaving them? It just doesn't feel right."

Rilon turned to glare at him. "I've had it up to here with your shit, Daniels. Why did you even join the Talons? You're a pussy and you've got no balls. If you undermine me one more fucking time, I'm going to shoot you right in the face," He seethed, his face inches away from Daniels'.

Daniels looked at the ground and gave a stiff nod.

...

Sarah had dozed into a deep dreamless sleep, but she was suddenly startled awake by the sound of glass breaking. Her eyes flew open and she saw that the window was broken. She flew out of the chair and looked at the object that was nearby on the floor. "Flashbang!" She yelled before the grenade exploded and blinded her and the other two who woke at her cry.

She fell to the floor, ears ringing as she struggled to blink the spots from her eyes. Ray and Jericho writhed in their beds, rubbing their eyes and letting out cries of panic. Sarah had experienced flashbangs before, but Ray and Jericho hadn't.

If they weren't temporarily blinded they'd see the Talons kicking in the door. They were only aware of the Talons when they were being hauled up and handcuffed. They were roughly pulled outside and forced to sit in the dirt while they waited for their senses to return.

When the ringing stopped and vision was returned they looked up to see about 10 Talons. Three were looking down at them while the others threw their bags outside. "If you can see or hear me, say something," Rilon barked.

"How about this? Fuck you," Jericho spat acidly. Rilon smirked at him, then cracked him across the jaw with his fist. Jericho fell onto his side, spitting blood into the dirt.

Rilon moved to stand before Sarah. "What about you? Can you hear me?"

Sarah clenched her jaw, saying nothing but glaring at the man before her. "Not everyday that I get a pretty blonde on her knees in front of me. Better say something before I take advantage of that," He said smugly, flashing a lecherous grin.

"Leave her alone asshole!" Ray seethed at him.

"Ooh! Our target has a bite to him!" Rilon laughed as he strolled casually over to Ray. He stooped in front of Ray and stared him in the face. "Did you tell me to leave her alone?"

Ray clenched his jaw, but when Rilon continued to stare at him, he spat in his face. The Talon's eyes went wide as the saliva splattered on his face, and he was immediately seeing red. He jumped at Ray, getting him in a brutal chokehold, and flicking out a switchblade. He held the knife right near Ray's left eye, and looked at Sarah with a pure expression of sadistic joy. "Now, you're going to tell me. Can you fucking talk or not? If you don't answer me, your boy here is gonna need a motherfucking eyepatch."

"Yes! Just let him go, please!" She shrieked at the leader, trying to ignore the fact that she was begging to a Talon.

He gave a smile before closing the knife and roughly heaving Ray to the ground. "Get these assholes on their feet," He barked to his men. Three burly Talons came over to haul the trio to their feet.

"Now. It's time for the friendship necklaces," He said with a small laugh. He produced three Slave Collars from a nearby dufflebag, and clicked them a little too tightly around their necks.

"What in the hell is this?" Ray asked, shifting at the bulky metal around his neck.

"A Slave Collar. If you run he can hit a remote control and blow your head off," Sarah said flatly.

"Well aren't you smart? Yeah, you even think about running and I'll pop your head like a fucking zit," Rilon responded.

"What's the point of all this? Weren't you supposed to kill me anyway?" Ray said, angry and confused.

The Talon shook his head. "I was supposed to, but you guys are some very valuable people. With the exception of him maybe," He muttered nodding his head at Jericho.

Jericho glared and spit blood at the lead Talon's boots, but he sidestepped the liquid.

"How are we valuable?" Ray questioned further.

"In the slave trade, obviously. You stupid or something? Now shut up, we got some miles to cover."

"Where are you taking us?" Ray pushed.

"Oh my god. Shut up! We're taking you to paradise," He barked, "Now shut the hell up before I cut your tongue out!"

Ray opened his mouth to retort, but Sarah gave him a look that silenced him. He clenched his jaw and nodded. "Alright. Let's move out!" Rilon ordered the others.

**_Thanks to everyone so far: _**

**_Favs for this story: Andrew . was. here, Gurab, Mr. CJ of Blackwater, Perrault6249, Shadowninja123, The Konfessionist, TheSilverNinetales, Token Cylon, WastelandScavver00, beastlynerd, eLRock, fray253, narutopower1991, nightwolf2790_**

**_Follows for this story: Andrew . was . here, Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, Mr. CJ of Blackwater, Scryo117, Shadow knight1121, The Konfessionist, TheSilverNinetales, WastelandScavver00, beastlynerd, fray253_**

**_Author favs: Andrew . was . here, beastlynerd, fray253, Mr. CJ of Blackwater, Perrault6249, the Konfessionist, WastelandScavver00, Whiro Dragon of Death and Evil _**

**_Author follows: Andrew . was . here, beastlynerd, Daicha, fray253, Mr. CJ of Blackwater, Scryo117, Shadow knight1121, SincerelyYoursJHB, The Konfessionist, TheSilverNinetales, WastelandScavver00_**

**_A huge thanks to all you wonderful guys and girls ;)_**


	14. Attempts and Arrivals

**_Author's Note: As of April 4th, it's been exactly one year since I posted the first chapter of Wasteland Survival. I'd hoped to get this finished by then, but that didn't work out obviously lol. There are many reasons this chapter took forever, mostly trying to bring up my grades in school, the fact that I was depressed for a while, and the fact that I rewrote this and edited it a lot. But enough of that depressing shit! It's been a year guys! And I couldn't have made it this far without your encouraging reviews :) Thanks to my two constant reviewers that have been with me since the start, Andrew . Was . Here and Shadow knight1121. You guys are the best :D _**

Wasteland Survival Part 15

"Sarah, what'd he mean by 'Taking us to Paradise'?" Ray mumbled quietly to Sarah who walked solemnly beside him.

"Probably his way of saying we are getting dragged to Paradise Falls. This is definitely not good," She responded grimly, looking at her hands.

Those few words made Ray's stomach churn. Paradise Falls, the slaving hub of the Capitol Wasteland. He should've guessed that's where they were headed. "This is all my fault."

Sarah gave him a glare. "Don't you even try to blame yourself. It's my damn fault for falling asleep," She said sharply, chewing at her cheek in anger.

"Will you shut the fuck up back there? Why don't you play the blame game when you're all sitting in a pen?" Rilon seethed at them with a cold scowl.

Ray clenched his jaw, looking down at his hands as hopelessness filled him.

Jericho glanced over at Sarah and noticed her eyeing the closest guard. He picked up his pace a little to fall into step with her. "You got any ideas?" He murmured, too low for the troops to hear.

"That guard, he's wearing Ray's pack. I can see the grip of the 10mm sticking out," Sarah muttered back, pretending to look at her hands when in all reality she was looking up at the guard's back through her eyelashes.

"Good eye. I was eyeing that guy's Assault Rifle. He's holding it too casually. It'd be easy to grab and unload into these fucks," Jericho said back with a sly grin at her.

"Great. When I scratch my nose, we grab the guns and take these guys down. Hope you got a fast trigger finger," She responded.

"I may have aged, but I haven't lost a beat," Jericho whispered confidently, his eyes returning to the guards.

Ray gave Sarah and Jericho a questioning look. They walked closer together than they normally would have, but you could hardly tell they were talking with the way they rarely looked at each other and it seemed like they were trying to talk without moving their lips too much. His stomach twisted, a bad feeling that they were about to pull something stupid coming over him. He noticed Sarah eyeing the grip of his 10mm sticking out of the pack of the guard in front of her. He didn't want to try grappling with a guard over a gun. He clenched his jaw nervously, deciding that he'd go for the Switchblade tucked in his boot if things went to shit.

If they didn't do it though, he would keep it hidden until they got to Paradise Falls. He'd be gunned down as soon as he grabbed for the knife right now. It'd be best to have it when they weren't being watched as closely.

"So who do we got with us this evening? Tell me about yourselves, we'll have some story time before you spend the rest of your lives in slavery," Rilon said suddenly, spinning around to look at them as he walked backwards, talking to the three as if they were old friends.

Sarah gave him a glare, while Ray looked at the psychotic man in confusion. Jericho rolled his eyes. "What's the matter with you guys? No one really wants to talk? No "I got a family! You can't do this!?" That's weird. We usually get a lot of that. Well I might as well tell you who I am. You can call me Rilon, weird I know but that's my last name. I don't think we're on a first name basis yet."

"Oh my God, shut the fuck up! We don't care who you are," Jericho groaned, giving the man a look of irritation.

"No Jericho, this might prove useful information when we hunt him down and cut his fucking head off," Sarah said back, glancing at him before giving Rilon a deadly look.

"Wow!" Rilon said with a laugh, "Sorry honey but I don't think you'll be getting out of this one," He said to Sarah with a satisfied smirk before turning back to Jericho, "And your name's not any weirder than mine, you old dick. Jericho? That your first or last name?"

"None of your fucking business. Jericho is all you need to know, but you can get more acquainted with my boot when it goes up your ass," Jericho growled back, his eyes furrowing.

"Geez, I was just asking," Rilon responded, feigning hurt before turning his attention back to Sarah, "And what's your name blondie?"

Sarah said nothing, instead continuing to stare daggers into him. Rilon shrugged, "Fine. Be that way. And you, you're Ray," He said looking over to Ray.

"No shit. Otherwise you wouldn't have come after us," Ray responded sharply, cutting the man a glare.

"I thought you were one of those pacifists or some shit. Why the hostility?" Rilon said sarcastically, slowing his pace until he was only a few feet away from Ray.

An overwhelming feeling was coming over Ray. It wasn't depression at the situation as it was before, but it was pure, red hot rage. Without thinking, he rushed Rilon and pulled his head back and slammed it into Rilon's as hard as he could. Rilon hit the ground and Sarah yelled "Now!" at Jericho. Faster than a wink she had the 10mm out of the Talon's bag as Jericho jumped at another Talon for his Assault Rifle.

Rilon kicked Ray's feet out from underneath him, causing him to nearly land on Rilon. Ray took advantage of the fact that his hands were bound in front of him instead of around his back, and jumped on Rilon, clubbing him in the face with both of his fists; he managed to strike him a few quite a few times. Seeing red, he went to grab his Switchblade as Rilon covered his face, but as soon as the blows stopped, Rilon drew his .44 and put it under Ray's chin.

Sarah managed to shoot the guard that she took the gun from in the gut before another Talon grabbed her from the side and tackled her to the ground.

Jericho grabbed for the Assault Rifle but took a quick elbow to the face. He growled and reached again, only to be hit with an elbow to the eye. The guard spun after successfully stunning Jericho and hit him in the face with the stock of the Assault Rifle. Jericho went to his knees, a knee to the face finally dropping him.

Rilon shoved Ray off of him, keeping his .44 trained on him. "God damn it!" He gently grasped at his nose, feeling it out of place, blood streaming from it and coating his lips. Ray was about to reach for the small switchblade in his boot again, but Rilon grabbed Ray by the back of the neck and hauled him to his feet. "I should put a bullet in your fucking skull right now." He took the heavy gun and slammed it over Ray's head, causing him to slump to the ground. Rilon kicked Ray in the gut then pushed him over with his foot. Ray's vision blurred and went black.

Jericho was out too, the blows to the head not fairing too well. Sarah was pinned underneath a Talon, his hands holding her's above her head, her legs pinned as he straddled her. Rilon holstered the gun and walked over to Sarah. "Satisfied? Normally I'd make a joke about the position you're in but I'm no longer in the fucking mood. Try any more cowboy shit like that and I will kill your friends slowly and painfully, and then carve off your pretty face. That, I promise," He said in a deadly serious tone, his eyes clouded over with rage. He turned his eyes to the Talon that was straddling her. "Get off her, get some boys to drag those sorry fucks."

The man gave a prompt nod and rolled off of Sarah, turning to the shaken up Talons. Sarah started to climb up, but Rilon stalked over, grabbing her roughly by her upper arms and pulling her to her feet. "I don't know how you managed to pull that shit, but you know I've got my fucking eyes on you now," He warned lowly, his eyes burning.

Rilon looked down at the Talon that Sarah had shot, seeing that he was gut shot. Rilon sighed at the thought of losing a man, but the thought left as soon it made itself known. He pulled his .44 once again and put a single round in the injured man's head. Rilon's brutality did not surprise Sarah or any of the other Talons; she had realized quite a while ago that the man was insane. Rilon pried Ray's pack off the dead man, putting it on his own back before scavenging some bullets and an Assault Rifle off his corpse. A beefy Talon grabbed Jericho by the rope that bound his wrists and began dragging him across the ground, another doing the same for Ray.

...

Ray came to a few hours later, aware of intense pain in his wrists and arms, and the sensation of the ground dragging painfully across his knees. He looked up, his neck popping achingly and a migraine making itself known. They were still with the Talons, and he was currently being dragged by one of them. "Let me go."

The Talon looked wordlessly down at him and dropped his hands without warning, causing him to flop face first in the dirt. "God damn it you fucktard! Why'd you drop him?" Rilon shouted, stopping at the thud of RAy hitting the dirt.

"You want me to drag him while he's awake?"

"Hmph. 'Bout time he woke up, we're almost here. I can see the walls up ahead," Rilon huffed, glaring at Ray as he pulled himself to his feet. With that he set off walking again, barely giving Ray enough time to stand up.

It hurt to move his arms, the sudden flow of blood returning making them tingle and giving him a pinprick sensation. To his left he saw Jericho still being dragged across the ground, the knees of his Leather Armor torn and covered in dirt and some blood. Ray's knees had fared better, but his pants were ripped and filthy, his knees only beginning to get scraped. Somehow he wasn't bleeding that badly.

Sarah fell into step beside him. "Thank God you're awake. You've been out for over an hour. But it looks like we're here."

"At least you tried. Looks like you managed to take out one of them," Ray said, grinning at her.

"Yeah," She returned the grin, "Too bad it couldn't have been more though."

"We'll get out of this. I don't know how long it'll take but we will," Ray said in a quiet tone, glaring at the walls of Paradise Falls.

"Are you reassuring me, or yourself?" Sarah asked him, raising an eyebrow and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"To be honest, I couldn't tell you."

...

After being looked over by Eulogy Jones himself, a dark skinned man who wore a red suit, Ray and Sarah were shoved into a pen while Jericho was hauled off to see the doctor. In said pen were four other slaves; an old man with little hair on his head, but a massive beard, a washed out looking man with drooping eyes, a ghoul woman, and an African American woman.

"Been awhile since we've seen a new face in here," The African American woman said, examining Ray and Sarah, "What are your names?"

"I'm Ray, this is Sarah."

"I'm Bleak, we call the old guy Breadbox, don't ask and don't bother because he's deaf, the ghoul is Jeanette, and the drunk over there is Bronson," She said, pointing to the other slaves as she introduced them.

"Did you manage to smuggle a weapon in? Please say yes!" Jeanette all but shrieked as she ran up to the duo, grabbing Ray by his shirt.

"Shh!" Ray hushed her, prying her hands off his shirt. "I've got a small switchblade in my boot."

Jeanette released his shirt, her milky eyes brightening as she let out a small squeal of excitement.

Ray pulled up his pant leg to show the small leather pouch he had custom made and sewed onto the outside of his boot.

"That's great! But, I'll be straight with you, I've been observing the guards patrol routes as long as I've been in here. These guys just sit around and moan about our situation or degrade themselves for alcohol," She said quietly, looking at Bronson, "The best shot we're going to get at escaping is if you two do some planning with me. I'd say that knife helps our chances a lot."

"Fine with me. Won't be the first time I've had to escape from something," Sarah shrugged.

Bleak raised an eyebrow and looked to Ray. "You guys escape the Brotherhood's law or something?" She asked slowly, her tone cautious.

"No. I'm Sentinel Lyons of the Brotherhood Of Steel, Ray is a wastelander that I'm aiding," Sarah explained with a small laugh.

"You're Brotherhood? How the hell you wind up here?" Bronson chimed in from where he leaned against the fence, suddenly taking an interest in the conversation.

"I'm helping Ray take care of some important business. Unfortunately my Elder knows that I'm not expected soon, so no rescue is coming from the Brotherhood," She regretfully informed the other slaves.

"Damn it! You've no way to contact them?"

With a frown, Sarah shook her head, the grimness of the situation fully settling in.

The looks of hope that had appeared on Bronson and Bleak's faces were quickly lost, emptiness returning to Bronson as he drifted back to his place at the fence.

Bleak sighed. "Oh well. Let's get back on track. There's two main guards that watch the pen. There's Forty and some girl, I don't know her name. They watch in shifts with small breaks in between. Maybe, if someone could get one of them to get in here, we could take them down with your knife and sneak out!"

"Slow down. There are a lot of flaws in that plan. First of all, they would notice the guard go missing. Second of all, how would we sneak out? We have no Stealth Boys, there's one exit, and we only have a Switchblade. I saw a guard up front with a fucking Minigun. The only way we're getting out of here is if we shoot our way out or if someone buys all of us," Sarah explained.

Bleak opened her mouth to argue shut it with a huff. "God. You're right. I'm getting about as desperate to get out as these guys," She sighed, looking at the other slaves.

"Let's just try to come up with another way to get out. Maybe there's something we can make to help us climb the wall," Ray suggested.

"That's a good idea Ray," Sarah complimented, giving him a small smile.

"We could take a gun off the guard we kill," Bleak offered.

Sarah sighed. "We should talk about this in that little building. You guys sleep in there?"

Bleak gave a nod. "It's pretty gross. And you guys have to choose between some old, flat mattresses or the floor. And to be honest, I prefer the floor," She explained, giving a look of disgust toward the building.

...

Early in the night, in the office of the resident doctor, Jericho awoke. His head wasn't hurting as bad, as the cut on his cheek that had been gushing was now closed shut with several bandages and, judging by how fast it was healing, a Stimpak. He could tell he'd been out for a while; his back always ached when he laid on it for too long. He was on some form of hospital bed, in a building that smelled of heat and blood. He tried to slowly sit up, to slow the eventual head rush, but it didn't really help. He swayed a little as he stood, holding his head and letting out a groan. On swaying and unsure feet, he dragged himself around the off white divider that kept his bed from being seen by anyone in the main room. A woman with short gray-white hair sat at a desk reading, her back to Jericho.

He was confident. One woman would be no trouble, then it was just a matter of sneaking about until he found Ray and Sarah, then they could get the hell out of this place. He picked up a scalpel, and snuck behind the woman, preparing to cut her throat. He roughly grabbed her by her chin, pulling her head back and pressing the blade to her throat, just to have her Chinese Pistol shoved under his chin. "You've got one second to get the fuck off of me before I blow your brains out."

Jericho clenched his jaw. Her finger tightened around the trigger, the gun producing a small groan under her heavy grip. He dropped the blade and backed away. He let out a small growl of irritation as the woman rose out of the chair with the gun still pointed at him. He muttered in frustration. "Guess I really should learn to sneak better."

The woman gave a smug grin, and opened the door to call the Slavers.

**_Authors Note: Well, the gang are officially slaves. How long will they wear their collars? And how long until I update again? Hopefully not long because school is finally wrapping up in about two weeks, so hopefully with summer updates will be more frequent, but I can't make any promises because inspiration is a cruel lady. I did write a little baby Skyrim one-shot for you guys though, to make up for my absence! _**

**_As for news on From the Vault: I may change the title, and I'm still working on plotting out the story, so it's kinda on hiatus for now. I've been focusing more on this story, but I'm trying to put some of my energy into that one as well :) Now it's time for me to get outta here and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!  
><em>**


	15. Welcome to Paradise

**_Author's Note: I must apologize for the seemingly increasing periods of time between my updates, but this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Despite that, I' m satisfied with how it turned out! It's a bit longer than usual too, so enjoy! Thanks to all the favs/follows, it's getting hard for me to keep up with thanking everyone, especially with how long it's been since the last update. Now, enjoy the story!  
><em>**

Wasteland Survival Part 16

"I'm going to get outta this, and shove that gun so far up your ass you'll be spitting bullets out of your mouth!" Jericho bellowed at Cutter as the Slavers picked him up, holding his hands behind his back. She smirked in response, giving a mocking wave at his furious expression.

"Why don't you just make this easy and stop fucking squirming?" One of them asked in an irritated tone, tightening their grip on Jericho's wrists.

Jericho squirmed even more, managing to get one of his feet loose and kick the Slaver holding said leg in the gut. The man hunched over in pain, all the air leaving his lungs. "Get the Cattle Prod!" He wheezed, his face red and angry.

The men holding Jericho's arms dropped him, letting him slam face first into the dirt before the man on his left pulled a bizarre looking weapon from his hip. It was clearly jury-rigged. It was a long metal rod with a grip and some sort of battery pack on the handle, with wires connecting to a metal coil around the rest of the weapon. His thumb pushed a button on the handle and electricity crackled along the coil.

Jericho kicked the other man off his leg that was still captive before ramming his fist into the crotch of the man with the weapon they called the Cattle Prod. He jumped to his feet, giving the man on his right a mean left hook. The man with the Cattle Prod quickly recovered from becoming impotent, and swung the weapon into Jericho's back. There was a sick sizzling sound, and Jericho fell to his knees. He was unable to move for several seconds, but he was back on his feet in no time, swinging a powerful punch for one of the Slavers.

The man with the Cattle Prod roughly cranked a dial on the battery pack, the cruel weapon giving off a loud crackle as he did so. He gave several swings in quick succession to Jericho's back, holding them there long enough to give off cracks and pops as the energy transferred to Jericho, but going fast enough to do it multiple times. The heavy shocks were too much for him, dropping the larger man to his hands and knees. His breathing was ragged and he felt like his heart was going to explode.

He let himself fall to his stomach, fearing the shocks could be fatal on his aging heart. "Fine! You assholes fucking win!" He shouted, his voice dripping with venom. The crackling seized as the Cattle Prod was turned off and holstered. Rough hands gripped him again, tighter this time as he was carried to the slave pens.

...

"Did you hear that shouting? That sounds like Jericho," Ray says, his grey eyes meeting Sarah's green.

"What the hell is he up to?" She responds, looking at the gate.

Four bulky Slavers carrying Jericho entered the first gate, pausing to unlock the adult slave pen before swinging Jericho backwards for added momentum, and pitching him into the caged in area. Jericho hit the ground for the third time that day with a loud thud, dust and dirt puffing around him. The gate was closed with a metallic clang and locked as Jericho clambered to his feet.

He spit some dirt out of his mouth and dusted his clothes off. "Fucking assholes!"

"Never thought I'd say I'm glad to see you Jericho," Ray said, a smile breaking across his face.

"Seconded," Sarah grinned, patting Jericho on the shoulder.

"I know it's a happy family reunion and all…but what the fuck are we gonna do about these Slavers?" Jericho huffed, his eyes livid.

"Bleak and I have been speaking of the possibility of jumping the concrete wall over there," Ray said, pointing at the concrete wall that made up part of their cage.

"Won't work. Not with these collars on. If they aren't proximity armed, then they'll hit the button when they see we are gone," Sarah explained.

"So we just take a rock and smash the fuckers off!" Jericho said, grinning as if he had outsmarted her.

Sarah shook her head, loose strands of hair caressing her cheek. "Trying to remove them with brute force like that is…not smart, to put it politely. The only way to get them off is if we had someone very tech savvy, or good with explosives, to unarm them. I don't see any techies or bomb technicians here."

"But you're Brotherhood. They're obsessed with tech. Can't you do it?" Ray put in.

"I'm a Sentinel, not a Scribe. And there's no way I'll be blowing someone's face off while trying to figure it out."

Ray was silent, a thoughtful look on his face as he turned to sit against the wall.

"No ideas?" Jericho asked, looking at Sarah.

"Not yet. I'll need more time to think," She chewed her cheek in thought, rubbing her neck where the collar was already beginning to chafe.

Jericho nodded, walking over to the concrete wall, examining an opening blocked by a burnt out car.

A Slaver approached the gate, pushing bowls of questionable soup under the fence. "Squirrel Stew today…I think," He looked back up, seeing Jericho near the blocked opening, "Get the fuck away from there old man!"

Jericho scowled at him, resisting the urge to flip him the bird. As the Slaver walked away, Ray took one of the bowls, grimacing at the dark soup. "This is some nasty smelling shit!"

Bleak claimed a bowl for herself, sitting against the fence. "This is the worst, but it's not as bad if you hold your nose." She held her nose, taking a heavy sip from the bowl due to lack of eating utensils. She grimaced, but managed to stomach the slop.

Ray looked into the liquid, its sewage green color making his stomach churn. He shut his eyes tight, held his nose, and took an experimental sip. As the foul liquid met his tongue, he suddenly held the bowl away, spitting the soup on the ground and retching loudly. "Oh God! What in the fuck?!"

Bronson's laugh answered him. "Oh man! That was great!" He guffawed, nearly spilling his rations. Jeanette suddenly smacked him in the back of the head, giving him a scolding look.

"Sorry mom," He responded in a joking tone, grinning at her before taking a heavy sip from the bowl.

Breadbox silently watched the exchange with a smile, before quickly draining his soup. Jericho held his nose and chugged the stew, tossing the bowl away with a grunt of distaste.

Sarah looked at the stew with a dubious expression. "So…when do we eat again?"

"Now or never hon. They don't exactly have a schedule they feed us by. We went a week without eating before," Jeanette said sadly.

"Oh my God…" Sarah murmured, sympathy in her tone. She looked hesitantly at the soup before taking a heavy hit and struggling to drain the bowl. She let the bowl fall to the dirt, her face the image of pure disgust. "I wouldn't feed that to my fucking dog. I feel sick," She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

"It's definitely going to bother you for awhile, but you get used to it," Bleak said.

Ray held his nose, taking a heavy sip from the bowl. He managed to keep it down this time, but he put the bowl on the ground. "Yeah…no. I can't do this." His stomach was already trying to force the liquid out. He'd eaten some foul things, but this was arguably the worst. "That is definitely not Squirrel Stew, more like straight shit stew."

She others couldn't help but laugh, except Breadbox, who silently wrote in a Pre-War book. A small smile touched his lips however, unperceived by the others.

"Amen to that! But it's a really bad idea to not eat. Shit stew or not, it's going to be days before we eat again, and Eulogy should be stopping by to assess you guys," Bleak explained.

"Assess us?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

Bronson nodded. "Yeah, he assesses all the slaves when they first show up to see what you're good at. That way, he can prepare a fucking salesman speech to try to sell you to people or see if you meet someone's needs. We sell as bodyguards, sex slaves, manual labor, everything you can think of really."

"This is so fucked up," Ray says, suddenly angry, feeling that he failed at protecting his friends. He scowled at the ground, his own anger combined with the midday sun suddenly making him hot.

"Of course it is. But that doesn't matter because it's time to see what you can offer my clients," Eulogy's voice suddenly says from the gate. Ray looked up, squinting from the sun. "You're first pretty boy," Eulogy adds mockingly, smirking at Ray. Ray gave him an icy glare as he walked over to the gate. Eulogy opens the gate, allowing Ray to exit before locking the gate behind him. "And don't get any ideas. There are snipers watching, everyone here is packing, and I hold the control to that collar."

Ray silently rolls his eyes and lets the man lead him off to be assessed.

...

"Can you read?" Eulogy asked Ray as he watched him mock fight a battered mannequin.

"Yes," Ray panted as he demonstrated his fighting abilities to the other man.

"Good. Now take this knife and show me some of the weak spots on the body with it," Eulogy handed him a small butter knife.

"How am I supposed to stab it with this dinky thing?" Ray hissed, looking at the dull blade.

"It's called pretending. You must be stupider than Brahmin shit if you think I'd give you a real knife," Eulogy said smugly before laughing.

Ray clenched his jaw, stabbing at the neck of the mannequin before quickly stabbing the stomach. He darted quickly behind it, stabbing it in the kidney area.

"That's good. Some basic knowledge with knives. I want to try out some other weapons as well."

...

The assessment went rather quickly. Eulogy had him show how well he could fight using a hand to hand, a dull knife and machete, a plastic baseball bat, and finally tested his shooting skills with a BB gun. After confirming he could read, he shoved Ray back into the pen and took Jericho for his assessment.

"How'd it go?" Sarah asked Ray as Jericho was led away.

Ray shrugged. "Fine I guess. He wanted to know if I could read before testing my combat skills."

"I wonder if they'll kill us if we don't meet their standards. If they even have standards…" Sarah wondered aloud.

"I don't think they do," Ray muttered, looking at Breadbox before trailing his eyes to the pen of children.

...

Ray and Sarah were discussing possible escape plans with Bleak when Jericho was returned. "Okay Blondie, you're next!" Eulogy called to her.

Sarah stood, brushing dirt from her pants before hesitantly making her way to the gate. Eulogy's eyes lecherously took in her form with no shame. Sarah felt like setting the man's eyes up and spinning, but that wasn't the best idea. She clenched her jaw, giving him an icy look.

Eulogy smirked in response, holding the gate open for her and leading her to the training area.

Sarah felt his eyes watching her every movement, and it made her skin crawl.

...

"You're an impressive fighter, clearly highly skilled in hand to hand, melee weapons, and firearms. Have you had some sort of training?" Eulogy asked.

"I don't see why it matters. You know I'm good and that's all you need to know," Sarah responded numbly, shooting another bottle with the BB gun.

"True. But if you've had training with some faction or something, I'd like to know about it."

"I don't feel inclined to tell you shit," Sarah spat back, glaring daggers into him.

"You've got a dirty mouth." Sarah was sure if he smirked any wider his face would crack, if she hadn't cracked it for him at that point.

She said nothing, looking back the makeshift shooting range and shattering another bottle with ease.

"There's no way you were a merc. You're…something greater than that. Don't go breaking Ol' Eulogy's heart by playing the quiet game," He put a hand over his heart, giving a fake sad look to her, sticking out his lower lip.

"What don't you understand about I'm not telling you shit? Are you fucking stupid?" She snapped suddenly, her short temper getting the best of her.

Eulogy was suddenly in her face, gripping her tightly by her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. "You don't talk to me like that, you fucking slut," He said lowly, his rank breath fanning over her face.

Planting her left foot firmly on the ground, she placed her right foot behind his, before punching him in the face and making him trip over her legs. He stumbled backwards, shock in his brown eyes when he was suddenly on the ground. She straddled him, wrapping her hands around his throat. He let out a growl of anger, grabbing for a Scoped .44 Magnum at his hip. She grabbed his arm, twisting it away and reaching for the .44 before something sharp kicked her hard in the back of the head and caused her to fall to the ground beside Eulogy. Something sharp pressed into the back of her neck, making her clench her teeth.

"No one touches Mr. Eulogy," A female voice warned lowly behind her. Sarah turned around, seeing two women in matching pink Pre-War dresses looking down at her. The sight before her was strange, and nearly comical. They dressed in pristine, bright pink Pre-War dresses with matching heels, yet they had short, almost boyish hair and Slave Collars around their necks.

The African American woman had her head shaved except two small strips that stood up and resembled devil horns, whereas the Asian woman had a single strip of unnaturally white hair that laid flat against her head, looking like a deflated Mohawk. They both had Chinese Officer's Swords, and the African American woman pointed her's at Sarah's throat while the other woman helped Eulogy to his feet. "You kicked her hard Crimson. If she got something knocked loose in her fucking head I'll knock something loose in yours," He hissed at the woman, despite her saving his life.

"I'm sorry Mr. Eulogy," She whimpered, looking at the ground.

"Sorry Crimson. You know I still love you," He smiled at her, but it just didn't look right. The girl's cheeks colored as he patted her on the head like a dog. The other woman glared at them with what looked like jealousy. Sarah watched the display with her mouth hanging open, trying to make sense of their relationship.

He turned back to Sarah, an angry snarl on his mouth. He grabbed her by her hair, ripping her head roughly backwards. "Now, tell me who you work for!" He shouted in her face, shaking her by her hair.

She cried out in pain as he nearly tore the roots out of her head. "I'm a Sentinel with the Brotherhood!"

"What?" He asked in disbelief, his grip loosening and his eyes widening.

"I'm Sentinel Sarah Lyons of the Brotherhood Of Steel," She hissed at him, still wincing at his grip on her hair.

He released her hair and pushed her to the dirt. "You're Brotherhood? I don't know if that's a curse or a god damn miracle, but it sure as shit makes you worth a fuck ton of caps! Hell, I might even keep you all to myself!" He said excitedly, his eyes lighting up.

The two women in the dresses exchanged a look of shock and hurt before glaring down at Sarah.

Eulogy hauled her to her feet, her hair coming out of the black hair-tie and spilling her golden curls to her shoulders. He smiled widely at her, gently touching one of the curls. "I definitely may keep you."

Sarah felt a wave of revulsion shoot through her stomach, slightly cringing away from him. "Don't be scared. I'll be real good to you," He smiled, something dark twinkling in his eyes. She looked away, scooping up her hair-tie as he led her back to the pen and ushered her inside.

The other slaves looked up at her entrance, some of them looking shocked. "Oh my God. Sarah, are you okay?" Ray said quickly, rushing to her as Eulogy left.

Sarah smoothed her hair, pulling it back into her usual ponytail and wiping tears from her eyes that had emerged from the pain of him pulling her hair. "I'm fine," Her voice cracked slightly.

Ray looked at her with concern and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "If something happened…please tell me."

"I'm fine Ray. He just…he's a bastard. But I'm okay. Let's go talk to Bleak about getting out of here, okay?" She gave a weak smile, trying to reassure him.

He nodded, giving an equally weak smile and following her over to the other woman.


	16. The Hanged Man

**_Author's Note: My update schedule just gets worse and worse...ugh. This chapter gave me trouble for a while, but I finally showed it who's boss. Enjoy!_**

Wasteland Survival Part 17

"Do you think he…did something to her?" Ray asked Jericho as he rammed another nail home in the wood.

Jericho gave Ray another nail, holding the supporting board in place as Ray repaired the barricade. "Like what?"

Ray sighed. "You know, like…violated her…or something. I've never seen Sarah cry, but she was crying and her hair was down when he brought her back."

Jericho clenched his jaw. "If that fuckin' asshole did, I will shove a goddamn Ripper up his ass. And I'm serious, I've done that before." The comment was brutal, and maybe slightly comical, but Jericho's eyes were dead serious as they met Ray's.

Ray averted his grey eyes back to the fence. "Wow."

"And that's not even the worse part. Then, I'll take a Deathclaw Hand and I-"

The roar of a Chinese Assault Rifle ripped into the air from behind them. "Shut the fuck up and fix that goddamned fence." Forty hissed in annoyance, glaring at their backs.

"Oh my god, I fucking hate that guy," Jericho snarled under his breath, taking the hammer from Ray and angrily driving the nails into the wood, managing to not bend them somehow.

"Really? He kinda reminds me of you," Ray said with a small grin.

Jericho gave him a glare. "You do realize I'm holding a hammer?" He raised it jokingly.

Ray gave a small laugh, prompting more shouting and berating from Forty. They quieted, sweating beneath the scorching afternoon sun as they repaired the junk wall. According to a conversation between two of the Slavers that Ray had overheard, a Slaver named Ymir had gotten drunk and smashed another Slaver into the wall with his Super Sledge after he insulted his son, Jotun. Ray had rolled his eyes at the man's alleged stupidity, and the bizarre names.

The blow had managed to knock over the small section of wall, splintering the wood and leaving an opening in the barricade around Paradise Falls. Ray contemplated leaving it weak as a means of escape, but the damn guard, Forty, kept coming over to check their work and make sure it was sturdy. The aging slaver may have been stupid, but he was observant as hell.

...

The duo worked through a good part of the day before the wall was repaired and they were herded back into the slave pen. Ray's hands chafed and his back hurt, but he didn't complain. Neither did Jericho, he just parked his ass on the ground, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.

Breadbox was, as always, reading from his Pre-War book. Ray absentmindedly wondered where the man got the book; there was no way the slavers had given it to him. Jeanette was looking up to the sky with a faraway look in her eyes, whereas Bronson talked animatedly with Bleak. Sarah sat near the hole in the wall, examining it with a thoughtful expression.

He made his way over to the Sentinel before planting himself next to her. "Hey."

She glanced over at him with a faraway look in her green eyes. "Hey. How'd it go?"

He shrugged. "Fine I guess. I thought about leaving the wall weak, but that dumbass Forty guy was watching us very intently. There goes another plan down the drain," He sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't worry Ray. We will get out of this shithole sometime, plus we got plenty of spare time to think and plot," She said reassuringly, giving him a light smile.

He gave a weak smile back at her, but her words didn't help him feel any better. Their situation was still dire. The way Bleak described Eulogy showed that the man had an interest in skilled women. Crimson and Clover had been in the slave pen just like the rest of them until he had assessed them. After that, they became his personal bodyguards/sex slaves. They used to be proud and defiant, until he mentally broke them and brainwashed them into thinking that he loved them. The idea of Sarah suffering that fate made his stomach do cartwheels.

Then there was the ever present danger of being bought. A perspective buyer could show up any minute of any day, and purchase any one or number of them. It was hard to think of what could happen if any of them happened to be purchased. Maybe they could overpower their new owner and come back to get the rest of them out? It was incredibly long shot, but it was the best idea he'd had so far.

"Bronson's lost hope," Sarah said offhandedly, not taking her eyes away from the hole in the wall as she picked up a small rock and began trying to chip away at the concrete.

"I'm not surprised," Ray sighed, looking over at the man in question, finding him sitting in his usual spot against the fence, drinking from a nearly empty whiskey bottle. "Where'd he get that?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "The fucking idiot humiliated himself for a half a bottle of leftover whiskey."

"Seriously? What'd he do?"

Her face twisted in disgust. "Let's just say we all saw more of him then we'd like to."

"Ugh… That guy has no damn shame," Ray muttered, scowling in the direction of Bronson, who was frowning and peering into the now empty whiskey bottle.

"Amen to that. Let's hope Jericho doesn't see him drinking anything or he'll probably kick his ass for it," Sarah murmured in response.

Ray gave a small laugh. "Yeah, or get drunk and make an even bigger ass of himself. Anyway, any new ideas for an escape plan?"

"Just this," She said, motioning to the gap. "But we still need a way to get these collars off. One of those kids in the pen next to us said something about being able to shut off our collars with a terminal they got working over there if we could get it connected to the main network, then he called me a damn mungo," She trailed off with a questioning look. "Anyway, if one of us could find the main terminal we could get these collars off."

"Mungo? What the… nevermind. How the hell would we do that? We'd never be able to walk around and find that damn terminal. What about those slave girls that follow Eulogy around?" Ray questioned her.

Sarah shook her head. "No way. They're as loyal as dogs to him. If we asked there's no doubt about them telling him, then who knows what would happen to us."

"God damn it!" Ray hissed loudly, his fists clenching, making the new calluses on his hands ache.

"Stop worrying Ray. We're smarter than a bunch of slaving fucktards. The day I let us die or be trapped in this hellhole forever is the day that hell freezes over."

Ray was still a bit worried, but her words calmed him slightly. He knew Sarah's determination and resolve. The woman was unstoppable when she put her mind to something. There was a reason she had been promoted to the only Sentinel in the Brotherhood. He picked up a small piece of broken concrete from the ground and helped her chip away.

...

Usually, the day tends to pass rather slowly when you are busy plotting and chipping away at a hole in the wall, but the day passed rather quickly for Ray and Sarah. Jericho slumbered at his spot propped against the concrete wall, Bleak talked with Jeanette, Bronson observed the Slavers through slightly drunken eyes, and Breadbox had wandered back into the slave building to get out of the sun. Ray looked over his shoulder to observe the setting sun and see a slaver bringing food over their pen. He absentmindedly noted that Bronson wasn't outside, but thought nothing of it. He tapped Sarah on the shoulder to show her that the Grub Slaver, as they had taken to calling him, was on his way. She dropped her rock and drifted over towards the fence to see what slop was in store for them.

It'd been about three days since they'd last been feed and it was wearing on Ray. Those three days ago had been the Squirrel Stew, a meal he had skipped. His stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of food. He stood up quickly, slightly dizzy from food deprivation and accepted the meal.

It was simple, a bowl with a bit of dirty water to drink and a piece of what was apparently Mole Rat meat carelessly tossed into said water. The meat was cold and somewhat tough and jerky-like, and it wasn't soggy, but had a somewhat slimy texture. Presumably from the water it was in. Ray quickly choked it down, hardly tasting the cold, slimy meat. It was no Brahmin Steak, but it was better than the Squirrel Stew they had before. He forced the water down as well, and hoped it stayed down.

He joined Bleak and Sarah, who talked quietly to each other. "So, why does everyone call him Breadbox anyway? Does anyone even know his real name?" Sarah asked the other woman.

"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it. He doesn't like to talk much at all really, being deaf will do that to you. But the nickname comes from a game the Slavers sometimes like to play with new slaves. They call it see how much can fit in a breadbox," Bleak stopped talking there, grimacing and looking away before continuing. "That old man has been here longer than anyone, and endured more than I knew a person could. He's a good man. You could try to talk to him. He can't hear you, but I think he can read lips or something. He responds to people sometimes, but most of the time if you try to talk to him he can't understand you."

Ray was silent. He knew the Slavers were sick fucks, but how could they do that to someone? His urge to leave was suddenly even stronger than before, so he made his way back to the wall and began chipping away just a bit faster than he had earlier.

Ray and Sarah worked at chipping away until their hands started to bleed from the rocks that they gripped. The others meandered about, mostly talking to one another and alternating between keeping watch for any incoming Slavers. Night had fallen and Ray was fighting his need to ask Sarah if Eulogy had attempted to do anything to her. He didn't know why, but he felt immensely protective of her all of a sudden. On top of everything else, he was fighting a strong feeling of guilt. If he hadn't asked Sarah and Jericho for their help, they wouldn't be trapped here with him. No one deserved to be trapped here. He wouldn't wish this place on Burke.

He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly sighed instead and clenched his jaw. Sarah dropped her rock, wincing at the calluses and small cuts on her palm. "You okay Ray?"

He opened his mouth slightly to give her an answer, but instead gave a frustrated sigh. This prompted an eyebrow raise from Sarah. "I'm just frustrated," He said simply.

"I think it's a bit more than that. You know you can talk to me about anything," Her voice was gentle, almost cautious as she tentatively touched his forearm. Her green eyes turned up to meet his, causing him to quickly look down with a slight blush. He wasn't used to Sarah being this…sensitive.

"I know. Maybe tomorrow, okay? It's getting late and I just need some sleep." Yes, sleep. His aching body longed for one of the dirty mattresses on the floor of their small shelter. It would be better than nothing.

"Alright. I might be at this for a bit longer," She was herself again, all business and determined to escape as her eyes focused on the wall again.

Ray was slightly confused as he turned to head back into the shelter. Sarah being warm. What the hell was going on? What next, Jericho swearing to quit the bottle and smoking? He shook his head as he shut the door behind him. As his eyes turned up and looked towards the mattresses, he was greeted with a horrific sight.

Breadbox hung from a noose poorly made out of scraps of mismatched cloth. His head wasn't cocked at an unnatural angle like most hangers' necks were, indicating to Ray that his neck hadn't broken. If he had hung himself, he had slowly strangled to death. His face was pale with the color of death and the tips of his cloth shoes hung about a foot off the floor. Ray rushed out of the small building as fast as his feet could carry him.

**_Author's Note: Oh Breadbox, you were taken just as our heroes developed an interest in you. I was rather intrigued by Breadbox, especially after reading his page on the Fallout Wiki. It is hinted at that he may have pretended to be deaf, but it is never known. Interesting..._**


	17. Worries Quelled, Worries Arisen

**_Author's Note: After a long wait and an "Oh shit" type of ending for the last chapter, the new chapter is finally here. This one is 13 pages and kicked my ass for a while, but I finally finished it. Yay! Without further ado, I present to you the new chapter. Enjoy!_**

Wasteland Survival Part 18

The Slavers carried Breadbox's body out without a word. Jeanette was sobbing while Bleak rubbed her shoulder, watching the Slavers drag him out with a shocked look on her face. Bronson looked down at his feet, avoiding looking at the scene. Ray shook his head, Sarah looked on silently, and Jericho crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why the hell would he kill himself when we just finally got some semblance of a plan?" Sarah muttered after the Slavers were out of earshot, one of her perfect eyebrows arched with suspicion.

"The man had it hard here. It probably just finally got to him. Besides, he likely didn't even know we had a plan; I mean, he was deaf," Ray offered, looking at her with a shrug.

Sarah gave him a dubious look. "I know, but it just seems...off to me."

"There's nothing off about it. Old bastard said fuck it and took the easy way out. Fuck, I think I would too if I was old as shit, deaf, and a slave," Jericho put in bluntly.

"Jericho, have some damn respect. You already fit two of those anyhow," Sarah muttered back to him.

He gave her a look. "There's the Sarah I know. You haven't been insulting me that much; I was beginning to think that you might've actually taken a liking to me!" He said, giving his signature smirk.

"Me? Like you? You must be drunk," She laughed jokingly.

"I wish," He sighed loudly, exaggerating a sad look and poking out his lower lip in a mock pout.

Sarah laughed, lightly slapping him on the shoulder and going back to work on the hole in the concrete.

Ray smiled at their exchange. It was nice to finally see his friends smile for once, despite their dark circumstances. He watched Jericho give a genuine smile as Sarah walked off to get to work.

"Good job old man," Ray grinned to Jericho.

Jericho shrugged. "I needed to lighten up the situation a bit. Being a slave and having old men kill themselves in the place you have to sleep is pretty fucking dark. Plus, Sarah needed to laugh for once."

"Since when do you care about people's feelings? You going mushy on me?" Ray teased, grinning wider.

"Hey, I'm a sucker for a pretty girl. And watch your luck kid," Jericho said, trying to hide his own smile before lightly slugging Ray on the shoulder.

Ray snickered. He gave Jericho a nod goodbye before making his way over to help Sarah.

They worked in a mutual silence until a Slaver came over to take Ray and Jericho to repair the shelves at the bar. There was no explanation, as usual, but it looked as if someone had forcefully smashed into the shelves. Broken liquor bottles scattered the ground and the remains of the shelves, their various contents spilling out onto their assorted resting places.

...

Sarah continued to chip away as Ray and Jericho worked repairs again. She winced as she dropped the rock, noticing how its' grey was beginning to stain red. The rock had been irritating her hand for awhile, and it had finally broken her skin. She flexed her fingers, looking at her palm. There was a jagged line across her palm where the rock had been digging in. Blood slowly leaked from part of it, while the rest of the angry red wound remained on the verge of bleeding. She sighed in irritation. Never one to let a wound stop her from progress, she tore away some of the cloth that made up the bottom of her mostly white tank top and began tying it around her hand, covering the wound and cushioning her hand slightly.

She didn't like how it exposed more of her skin, hell she had already felt naked without her power armor, but she would rather have that than have her hand get infected from a little cut. She switched to her left hand for the time being, and continued chipping away at the wall. A shadow fell over her as someone approached where she was crouching. "What is it?" She asked without looking up from her work.

"It's me," Bronson responded, crouching beside her. "Want some help?"

"You sure? Oh never mind, I need all the help I can get," She said, handing him a rock.

He accepted the rock, smiling and looking up at her when their skin touched. Sarah gave an awkward half-smile and looked back at the wall, pulling her hand away from his lingering touch. He chipped distractedly at the wall, watching Sarah out of the corner of his eye, noticing where she had torn her shirt. His gaze slowly looked over the exposed skin of her fit stomach.

He cleared his throat, looking back at the wall and occasionally glancing over at her. She met his gaze, causing him to quickly avert his eyes and lightly blush. "Sorry about Breadbox," She said, brushing off his stare.

He shrugged. "Can't say I ever had much communication with the man. Jeanette was the only one that had the patience to talk to him. Well, kinda talk."

"Yeah, Bleak told me about how they communicated," She absentmindedly let her eyes stray to where Jeanette usually sat, noting that she wasn't there. "Where is Jeanette anyway?"

Bronson's eyes went wide and he silently thanked that Sarah wasn't looking at him as he quickly stammered an answer, "Oh, um, I saw her head into the shelter after that got his body out. She seemed pretty upset."

Sarah turned back to the wall, hammering away at it without looking at him, but noting his shaky tone. "Ah."

"So, yeah, uh, why don't we get off this dark subject. I heard one of the Slavers say you used to be in the Brotherhood? Were you pretty high-ranking?"

"Still am; and I do pretty well for myself there. I'm just on leave to help Ray with some things," Sarah responded, brushing some loose hair out of her face to look briefly at Bronson before looking back to the wall.

He nodded, his eyes skimming down her back to rest on her backside when she wasn't looking at him. "So, have you got a husband or a boyfriend or something back with the Brotherhood?" He paused, thinking of Ray and the way he always hovered around her. "Or here?"

"No. And I would recommend that you stop ogling me like a horny schoolboy," She responded flatly, glaring at him from the corner of her eye.

He quickly ran his eyes back up to her face, finding her green eyes boring intensely into his. He blushed furiously, coughing and looking away quickly. "I hope you aren't mad. I've just been in here for so long, and it gets lonely…in that way."

"I understand. I've dealt with recruits doing the same stuff," She uttered in response, giving a light shrug and looking back at the wall.

"Surely you've gotten lonely; either here or with the Brotherhood?"

She sighed in irritation. "Bronson, I tend to have more important things to worry about than whether or not I'll be able to get off anytime soon."

"What if you have free time and your mind wanders though?" He challenged.

She clenched her jaw, her mind wandering to what it would be like to smash his brain in with her rock. "I'm not discussing this with you."

"Come on. How long has it been for you? You could use some stress release. That's probably why you're so uptight. I could help; and I'm not bragging or anything, but I've heard I'm pretty good with my tongue," He grinned lecherously at her.

She stopped her furious chipping at the wall to turn to him. "Now that I think about it, I could use some stress release. You know what I find is really, really relieving?" She said lowly, giving a suggestive grin.

He grinned even wider, vaguely resembling the Cheshire Cat as he leaned closer to her, "Tell me baby; I'm into whatever you're into."

"Well, I find that smashing annoying, sex-depraved pricks heads in with a rock is very, very relieving," She husked, giving a smirk.

Bronson's eyes went wide, his hands coming up in front of him as he leaned back out of her personal space, "Whoa whoa, I'm sorry. You've just gotta understand. I'm a guy, it's been so long. Jeanette's a ghoul and Bleak's got that short hair so she must be a lesbian. You put a pretty lady like you in here, and I'm gonna hit on you."

To his shock, Sarah burst out laughing. "You think Bleak is gay because she has a shaved head?" She laughed even louder, dropping her rock.

"Well…yeah," He muttered, giving her a look.

Sarah managed to speak after her laughing outburst finally quelled. "Hair length doesn't determine sexual preference. Quite a few girls in the Brotherhood have shaved heads or short hair; and hardly any of them are gay. One of them is actually a pretty big slut."

He gave her a dubious look. "Really?"

She nodded, giving a 'duh' look.

"Huh…so…we aren't having sex then?" He asked.

"Get out of here you fucktard!" She hissed, throwing dirt at him.

He laughed, shielding his face and running back towards where he usually sat near the fence gate. She watched him go, lightly laughing and shaking her head. She looked over at the fence that separated the adult slave pen from the child slave pen. Bleak talked with the only girl from the child pen. She had a worried look on her round little face, and it seemed like Bleak was trying to console her.

Sarah's mind drifted back to Jeanette and Breadbox. Bleak, and now Bronson, had mentioned to her that she and Breadbox had their own ways of communicating, including writing things in the dirt and reading lips. Apparently, Jeanette and Breadbox had age in common. Jeanette was a Pre-War ghoul. She had seen the Great War happen, had watched as the atomic fire consumed the world and her loved ones.

Sarah lightly sighed, suddenly feeling bad for the woman. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose everyone and everything you ever had. Then become a ghoul; then a slave…

...

Ray placed another bottle on the newly made shelf before wiping some sweat away from his brow.

"We finally got a buyer?" A Slaver asked another.

"Looks like it. Eulogy's leading him to the pens. Wonder what poor bastard he'll get. I know that blonde Brotherhood chick is safe though."

Ray suddenly perked up his ears to their conversation, listening in on them while still organizing the liquor bottles on the newly finished shelf.

There was a pause from the two, followed by the flick of a lighter and an exhale. "Yep. Apparently Eulogy has got some kinda plans for her. Says she's special."

The other man sighed. "Wonder what he's got in mind…anyway, can I hit that cigarette?"

Ray stopped listening as the Slavers' conversation drifted elsewhere. He looked over at Jericho. "Did you hear what they were saying?"

Jericho's face looked even older in that moment, the stress and exhaustion showing in his face as he placed a bottle of Scotch on the shelf. "Yeah. If that asshole hurts her…"

"I know. We need to get out of here before he can do whatever he wants to do. I wish I fucking knew what he was planning."

"Well, think like the enemy. What would you do if you were a greedy slave driver with two sex slaves, who just so happened to stumble upon a beautiful Brotherhood of Steel elite?" Jericho responded.

"Well, he could ransom her back to the Brotherhood, but the Brotherhood would probably get Sarah back, then raze this place to the damn ground. Especially since her father is the Elder. And they're gunning for this place anyway. The fact that their leader has his daughter would just put them even higher on the Elder's shit list."

"Exactly. So, knowing Eulogy and what he apparently did to those two slaves of his, do you think he'll keep her as his own like the other two?"

Ray paled and nearly dropped the bottle that he was lifting out of the crate. "I don't even want to think of that happening. I can't think of her…brainwashed and submissive like them."

"Well you better. Because that's most likely what is gonna happen and we gotta prepare for it," Jericho said brusquely.

Ray shook his head quickly. "No. No it won't. We can't think like that. We just have to stay positive." He muttered quickly, placing a bottle on the shelf with slightly shaking hands.

Jericho sighed in irritation. "Stop your mumblin'. You need to accept this and fucking prepare for it. I'll tell you what I'm thinking later."

Ray bit his lip in stress. "Right."

They finished putting the bottles on the shelf and were ushered back to the pens where Eulogy and a man were walking away, the man looking rather frustrated and Eulogy clenching his jaw hard.

They waited for the Slavers to lock the gate behind them and leave before speaking to anyone. "What the hell was that guy so pissed about?" Jericho asked, sitting on a chunk of smooth concrete with a sigh.

"Dude wanted to buy Sarah and Eulogy told him she wasn't for sale right now. He started trying to talk Eulogy into selling her, and when he couldn't budge, the guy starting bitching him out," Bronson said nonchalantly, a faraway look in his eyes.

"See Ray? Those Slavers were right. And we need to discuss this, because my instinct tells me shit's gonna be going down soon," Jericho said in a 'told you so' tone as he looked up at Ray.

"Whoa now, what is going on?" Sarah asked, looking back and forth between Ray and Jericho.

Ray sighed. "It's Eulogy. He's planning to do something to you. We overheard the Slavers talking about it. We don't know what it is, but the Slavers were saying that Eulogy thinks you're special. Jericho thinks he's going to try to turn you into one of those girls that follows him around…"

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly what he will do. He said that Crimson and Clover were special, right before he took both of them for his own and warped them into those twisted bodyguards," Bleak put in.

Sarah stayed contemplatively silent, taking in the information with a stony face.

Ray shook his head quickly. "No. There's no way he would just take her like that. There's got to be a way to-"

"Ray, I've seen this happen two times already, and I know where it's going," Bleak said gravely, frowning at him.

He sighed in exasperation, walking over to the hole in the concrete and picking up a rock.

Sarah soon joined him, and they worked in solemn silence. Even though his back and arms hurt from his earlier work, he continued chipping, clenching his jaw through the pain.

...

They continued working as the sun took its bow at the horizon and the moon began to make its ascent into the blackening sky.

Ray sighed and stopped chipping, looking up to the star dotted sky. "Sarah…I'm sorry."

She stopped her work as well and looked over at him with confusion written on her face. "Why are you apologizing to me, Ray?"

"All this, it's all my fault. I should have just let you and Jericho live your lives and took the fucking bullets from Talon Company. If I had, we wouldn't be sitting in this damn slave pen in these stupid damn collars," He spoke in a deadpan tone, still looking at the sky.

"Ray, don't ever say that again," Her voice sounded strangely fragile in that moment, making him look over at her.

"Sarah…there's something that's been bothering me. When Eulogy took you out to see what your skills are, did he…rape you, or something?" His voice broke at the question.

Her eyes went wide in shock. "What? Oh god, no. Why would you think that, Ray?"

He sighed in relief, smiling slightly. "Thank God. When you came back crying, and your hair was down and all tousled, I thought he had raped you."

She shook her head. "No. He pulled my hair really hard and ripped it out of my ponytail. I fought with him and would've killed him if those girls in dresses hadn't got the drop on me," She sighed and rubbed her head, "Getting kicked with heels hurts…anyway, I just got a little roughed up, that's all. If he had raped me, he would be dead right now. Believe me," She grinned at him.

"I do. You are something to be reckoned with," He lightly laughed, before smiling at her, "Really though, I'm so relieved that you're okay."

"Well I'm glad you're at ease about that…and, I'm glad you showed any concern. It means a lot, really," She said, giving a warm smile.

He smiled back, blushing slightly. "That's just how I am. Always worrying about people I care about."

They exchanged another smile before quietly going back to work. They had managed to make a hole big enough for Ray to fit his head and one of his arms through, they were almost there.

...

Jericho, Bleak, and Bronson had turned in for bed hours ago, Jeanette having gone to bed far before any of them. Ray and Sarah soon joined them, arms and hands aching and blistering. Having only four ruined mattresses on the floor made for awkward sleeping arrangements; they tended to have a rotation for who slept on the mattresses and who slept on the floor. Ray let Sarah have the mattress for the night, and laid beside her on the floor. She fell asleep almost instantly, sleep claiming Ray soon after.


	18. Forced Division

**_Author's Note: This chapter is much darker than previous chapters; I'd rate this chapter M. TRIGGER WARNING._**

Wasteland Survival Part 19

Sarah sighed, looking up at the sky and clenching and unclenching her fist to work the feeling back into it. She adjusted the scrap of shirt that covered the wound on her hand, grimacing at the blood staining the cloth. "Jeanette's been sleeping for a pretty long time, should I go check on her?" She asked, looking at Ray with concern.

"Might be a good idea. She seemed pretty depressed yesterday; she probably just needs someone to talk to."

Sarah stood with a light groan as her back popped loudly from being in a hunched position. She stretched as she made her way into the slave house. She quietly closed the door behind her, noting that the ghoul was still lying in bed with her back to the door. "Jeanette?" She said gently, her voice laced with concern. She stood quietly near the door for a moment, expecting the other woman to turn back and look at her, but she did not.

"Jeanette, honey, you can't stay in here all day," She paused, still waiting for her to say something. She lightly sighed, slowly walking over to stoop behind Jeanette and lightly lay her hand on Jeanette's shoulder.

"I know you're depressed about Breadbox…do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was quiet, careful.

Still Jeanette didn't speak, nor did she stir under Sarah's comforting touch. Sarah lightly pulled Jeanette's shoulder, rolling the older woman onto her back. She gasped and jumped back, tripping over her own feet and falling onto her backside.

Jeanette had large, jagged cuts starting from the base of her wrists and running up the entire length of her forearms, her crimson blood covering the floor and staining her shirt. A large cut ran across her neck, blood making a macabre bib around the collar and front of her shirt. SORRY had been written on the floor in her blood in large, sloppy, capital letters.

"Fuck…" Sarah lightly breathed, shifting from her backside back onto her feet in her previous stooping position. Sure, Jeanette had been very depressed, but suicide? Two suicides in a row; Sarah's gut told her something was off.

She looked around Jeanette's body, finding nothing that could've been used to make the cuts on the poor woman's corpse. She sighed, mentally preparing herself to check Jeanette's pockets for the item that had caused her death. Sarah hesitantly checked the woman's various pockets, looking away and feeling disrespectful, only to find nothing.

She searched the rest of the shelter, still coming up with nothing. She sighed, placing her hands on her hips and looking around in a last ditch search attempt. Her eyes skimmed over Bronson's mattress, seeing a small red object sticking out from underneath it. She raised an eyebrow, lifting the mattress to find a small, battered red book. She picked it up, opening it to a random page towards the middle.

_Fuck if I know what the date is anymore,_

_Some new slaves came in today; young guy with some nasty scars down his jaw and neck, some old man, and a sexy blonde. I'm hoping to get some action from her, but Scarface is fucking always around her. Dude better fuck off or I'll have to take care of him._

Sarah rose an eyebrow, skipping a couple of pages into a newer entry.

_Sarah is one hot piece of ass. I keep looking at her when she's not looking; I get a pretty good view of her ass when she's chipping away at that damn wall. I plan on talking to her soon. I'll take her one way or the other, even if she's not willing._

Sarah's eyes widened and she flipped the page quickly.

_Fucking Breadbox! That old motherfucker found my journal under the barrels today and saw the kinda shit that I've written about in here. I need to find a new hiding place for it. Anyway, I caught him reading it, and strangled him with my bare fucking hands. I can't have him telling any of the others about the things I've done. Or the things I plan on doing. I made it look like he hanged himself. I'm glad to finally be gone of the old fart. _

She nearly dropped the book, but forced herself to read the next entry.

_I had a talk with Sarah after they dragged that old asshole's corpse out. Ray ran out here pale as a fucking ghost after he found him. It took everything in me to keep from laughing at his pansy ass. Anyway, I couldn't keep my eyes off Sarah's fucking body when we were talking. She caught me, but she didn't seem disgusted with me. That's good. I started talking about sex and shit like that with her, and she's not with Ray. She hasn't been with anyone for a while, I can tell. I can't wait to finally fuck a willing woman. She shot me down, but she'll give in eventually. I'll fucking make her._

Sarah read on, her expression stony.

_Jeanette wouldn't stop fucking crying. All I wanted to do was come in here and drink, but she just wouldn't shut the fuck up. I had to kill her. I slit her throat, but I cut her wrists after she died. I tried to make it look like a suicide too. Hopefully no one gets suspicious. In other news, I plan to make a move on Sarah tonight. She tends to stay up later than everyone else to work on the escape route. I'll try it then. If she denies me again, I don't think I'll be able to hold back anymore. I'll fucking rape her if I have to._

Sarah jumped at the sound of the door slamming behind someone as they entered the shelter, dropping the journal as she turned around with wide eyes.

"Getting in some reading there honey?" Bronson said, looking at her with an amused expression. He turned the lock on the door, sliding one of the barrels in the room in front of the door for good measure. He stalked quickly forward, Sarah jumping away and backing into the wall as he scooped his journal off the floor. "Don't they teach you not to go through other people's things in the Brotherhood?" He grinned, tucking it back under his mattress.

"You're fucking sick! You killed Jeanette and Breadbox! And you're-" She snarled before being cut off by him.

"Gonna fuck the hell outta you? I know. Did you read anything before my Paradise Falls entries? I think those made for a very interesting read," He smirked, stepping closer to her and drawing a shiv from his pocket.

"You're disgusting. And no. I didn't read more," She hissed, tensing to get ready to run past him and hopefully out the door. It was locked, and there was a heavy barrel in front of it, but she could probably get a painful hit on him that would make him keel over long enough for her to bypass said lock and barrel.

"You should've. I've done worse when I was in the Wastes. It really makes for some pretty interesting reading material," He grinned sadistically, stepping closer threateningly.

She made to run past him, but was clotheslined by his thick arm before being thrown to the floor. The breath was knocked roughly out of her lungs but she managed to kick Bronson in the gut as he tried to jump on top of her.

The breath was knocked out of him in retribution, but he still managed to fall on top of her. His breath slapped her in the face; it stunk heavily of cheap whiskey. The shiv was pressed to her throat as Bronson swore loudly.

He brought his face close to hers, his words a growl. "If you scream or try anything, I'll cut your goddamn throat."

Sarah's response was a low threat. "How will you explain that to the others? They'll find out. And they'll fucking kill you. Did you know Jericho used to be a Raider? You see they kinda shit they do to people just for _fun._ Imagine what they'd do for _revenge._"

A small look of realization touched his features before disappearing, but it was there just long enough for Sarah to recognize it. She smirked confidently. "Come on Bronson, you even realize it. You'll never get away with this."

A growl escaped his lips. "Just shut the hell up!" His grip tightened at her throat, threatening to choke her. He glared at her for a moment before his lips were suddenly crashing roughly against hers; his arms pulling her body flush against his. Sarah planted her hands on his chest, struggling to push him away, but he pulled her closer.

She began to panic. He was everywhere. She could hardly think, her mind clouded with the fear of what was going to happen if she couldn't get away from him. He moved his hand that held the shiv to the front of her shirt, slicing her shirt open in a swift, experienced move. His lips were at her neck now, working their way down towards her now exposed bra. She was panting heavily, fear working its way into her quickly. His hand that was pinning her arm ran up said arm to grope her breast roughly. She squirmed with discomfort at his vile touch. His hand holding the shiv skimmed down her stomach and stopped at the top of her pants, the tip of the blade suddenly cutting off the button. She could see his grip loosening on the shiv slightly as his fingers started to pull down her zipper; that was his careless mistake.

She took advantage of her momentarily freed hands by slamming her fist into his nose with an infuriated snarl. He howled in pain and recoiled, dropping the shiv to hold his broken and bloody nose. Sarah snatched the shiv off the floor, stabbing it into Bronson's lower belly. He gasped in pain, looking at her with an utterly shocked expression as she kicked him off of her. He looked up at her as he held his stomach, oozing crimson from his stomach and down his side and finally onto the dark, dirty tiles of the floor.

His shocked eyes met Sarah's infuriated glare as she stood up. She wiped her mouth with the hand that held the bloody shiv, trying to wipe the taste of his alcoholic flavored lips off her own, only to succeed in smearing his blood over them like macabre lipstick. Her shirt fluttered around her fit torso and simple gray bra like a makeshift vest as she stalked around him, her lightly tanned skin smeared with his blood that had dripped onto her before she had kicked him to the side. Her glare was unsettling, eyeing him like a Raider who had found his next torture victim gift-wrapped and waiting.

She stopped pacing, suddenly dropping to her knees beside him and ramming the shiv into his stomach again. He let out a low sound of pain, his eyes wide and shocked like he couldn't believe he had been bested. She grit her teeth and ripped the makeshift blade out of his flesh, ramming it into his stomach again. Her anger was consuming her. She couldn't believe the foul things that this man had done, so she rammed the blade into his chest and stomach for all the Wastelanders he had hurt, for Breadbox, for Jeanette, and for herself.

She lost count of the amount of times she had stabbed him, or long she had been at it; the life had faded from his eyes only a few stabs in, but still she continued to ram the shiv home over and over again. Her surroundings had dropped away from her mind; she couldn't hear or see anything other than Bronson's body and the sounds the shiv made as it ripped him apart, she wasn't even aware she had started screaming until someone was kicking the door open and pulling her away from Bronson's mutilated corpse.

...

Ray looked up in shock as an angry and pained scream echoed from the Slave House. Bronson had entered the shelter shortly after Sarah, and it had been quiet for a while. He assumed they had been consoling Jeanette, but the nearly inhuman scream cutting through the air was solid proof against that. He, Jericho, and Bleak rushed to the door, trying to push it open only to find it completely immovable. He and Jericho rammed their shoulders into it, the subhuman cry of rage continuing as Bleak ran to the gate on their pen to shriek for help.

Eulogy, Forty, and a female Slaver Ray recognized but whose name escaped him were rushing through the gate on their pen shortly after Bleak began screaming for help. The children in the neighboring pen looked on with fear and curiosity at the panic occurring in the adult's pen. The female Slaver locked the gate behind her and stood with her Combat Shotgun gripped in her hands as Eulogy barked at Forty, Jericho, and Ray to get the door open.

The door finally slammed open, knocking over a heavy barrel that had been blocking the door. It slammed out of the way loudly and light spilled into the otherwise dark slave house, exposing Sarah ramming some sort of makeshift knife into Bronson's mangled torso over and over again. Jericho and Ray froze at the doorway, unable to comprehend what had happened to make Sarah do such a thing. Forty rushed into the room, grabbing Sarah from behind and tearing her away from Bronson's remains. She let out another inhuman scream, kicking frantically and flailing her arms, the shiv swinging around dangerously in her grip as Forty picked her up. Her foot kicked the mattress, making it slide and reveal a small red book. Only Eulogy noted this however, and he scooped it up, tucking it in his jacket pocket.

Ray had never seen Sarah look so...he couldn't even image what he would call this. Scary? Definitely. Wild? That too. Broken? He couldn't bring himself to describe the normally indomitable woman with that word, even though that was how she looked. Her shirt had been completely ripped open, exposing her bra and a fit stomach splattered with gore. Blood coated her hand that was holding the shiv and decorated her arms with more smears and splatters. Her green eyes were wide with fear and a nearly mad look, but her blonde hair was somehow still in its usual messy ponytail.

She continued to flail, her elbow smacking Forty right in the face. "God damn it! Eulogy, do something about this feisty cunt!" He snarled as blood trickled from his nose and met his lips. Eulogy glared at Forty but came forward to smack Sarah hard across the face with the back of his hand.

The blond stopped thrashing for a moment, shock crossing her pretty face, but it was quickly replaced with pure rage. She lunged at Eulogy with a snarl, nearly knocking over Forty, but somehow, he managed to keep his grip on her. Eulogy sighed in irritation and drew some sort of syringe from his pocket, shoving it into Sarah's neck with no hesitation. She convulsed for a moment before going limp, her eyes rolling up in her head and the shiv slipping out of her bloody grip.

Ray's jaw dropped and he was speechless. Jericho suddenly lunged forward and was screaming in Eulogy's face. "What the fuck do you do to her?! Did you kill her?! You son of a whore! I'll kill you!"

Forty dropped Sarah carelessly to the ground like she was an inanimate object to smash his fist into Jericho's face. Jericho took the blow like a pro and swung back equally as hard with a snarl. Forty stumbled backwards as Jericho rained blows down on him, turning his back on Eulogy. Forty crumbled to the ground and Jericho kicked him over and over again in the face and torso, making sick crunching sounds as his heavy leather boots connected with the flesh. Eulogy ran up behind Jericho, swinging a red suit clad leg and letting his wingtip shoe strike Jericho right in the apex of his thighs.

Jericho let out a strangled sound of pain and fell to his side, gripping his testicles and making low whines of agony. "Carolina Red! Get your ass in here and help me!" He shouted to the woman outside, hefting Sarah over one of his shoulders and struggling to pull a battered Forty to his feet. The woman that was standing near the gate rushed in, pushing past a speechless and statue-like Ray and Bleak to help Eulogy drag Forty out of the slave house. She gripped her Combat Shotgun in her right hand and grabbed one of Forty's arms with her left, helping Eulogy drag him out.

The Slavers awkwardly made their way to the gate with Forty and Sarah in tow. "Wait! What are you going to do with her?!" Ray shouted, rushing after them. The barrel of Carolina Red's shotgun dug into his chest when she suddenly turned and rammed it into him.

"Back the fuck off asshole. She can't be around you guys. Isn't safe for you or her," Eulogy snarled, hobbling out of the gate and dropping Forty for a minute to lock it behind him.

"Wait! Please! I can help her! I can talk to her!" Ray shouted helplessly, his hazel eyes wide with fear for Sarah. His hands gripped the fence so hard his knuckles turned white and he shouted his pleas after Eulogy so urgently that the veins in his neck bulged against his skin. Bleak placed a hand on his shoulder as an inarticulate cry of helplessness wracked his body. He watched Eulogy carry Sarah into his home, and he wondered if he would ever see the strong Brotherhood woman again.

**_Author's Note: Sorry how long this took, but life is a cruel mistress. Plus, I recently got Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age 2; so blame BioWare for making awesome games! XD _**


	19. Slipping On My Red Dress

**_Author's Note: Finally, a chapter that didn't take forever to write! I'm hoping updates will be more frequent now that we are finally out of the boring old slave pen. Upcoming chapters will most likely revolve around Sarah, but of course we will be checking up on Ray and Jericho as well; maybe we'll even check up on our old buddies Mr. Burke and Talon Company soon ;P_**

Wasteland Survival Part 20

Sarah awoke with a groan, a dull ache pounding behind her eyes. Not wanting to open her eyes and face the day, she covered them with her hands and rolled over onto her left side. Her mind was cloudy and she felt incredibly tired, even though she had clearly been sleeping for an indeterminate amount of time.

She struggled to remember just what the hell had happened, but her mind was swimming and the randomness of her thoughts made her vaguely realize that she had been drugged. She giggled at nothing in particular before groaning as the sound made her head give a sharp throb. She pulled her hands away from her face, finally opening her eyes. Her hands and forearms were spattered with dried blood and she could taste it on her lips.

She grimaced at the metallic taste of the blood and sat up, now aware that her tank top had been ripped open and there was more dried crimson painting her skin; she sighed with relief when she realized she still had a bra on.

Shakily, the Sentinel pushed herself off of the small bed that she had been laying on. The world tilted and swayed for a moment and she nearly fell on the hard tiles of the floor. Her hand caught the wall and she braced herself against it. Yep, had definitely been drugged.

Small pants escaped from her parted lips as she looked about the room. It was rather bare; a small bed had been shoved in the corner, it was really nothing more than a creaky metal frame with a flat mattress dumped on it, and a large staircase dominated much of the room. Sarah looked at the stairs, her head swimming and lurching dizzily with the thought of even attempting to climb them.

She looked away from the staircase and towards the only door in the room. Bracing herself against the wall, she stumbled her way to said door and twisted the doorknob only to find that it had been locked. "Well fuck you," She slurred out before laughing at her own words.

Her mind pulled a blank as to why it was so funny, but the laughter ceased as she quickly forgot what she had even said. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts a little. Her blonde hair was tickling her cheeks and she reached up to find that her ponytail had come loose. The Sentinel pulled the hair-tie out and smoothed her hair back, pulling it into its usual ponytail.

The familiar motion cleared her mind a bit more and she was able to stand without bracing herself against the wall. She stumbled towards the stairs, looking up their great height. Carefully, she took the handrail and lifted her foot up to the first step. She had managed to ascend nearly half the staircase before the world swam again, making her fall forward.

The handrail lessened her fall slightly, but the sharp edges of the stairs bit into her shins and elbows when she slammed onto them. Her mind briefly thanked that she had fallen up the stairs instead of down them as she crawled her way up the remainder of the stairs.

Sarah crawled her way onto the balcony that the stairs led to, looking between the bars of the railing to see a bar below as well as two archways leading into another room. She couldn't see anyone but she could hear light moans from an adjacent room. A radio sat on the bar, broadcasting Billy Holliday singing about how she was crazy for someone.

Sarah forgot about all the noises as she stood, supporting herself on the railing. The world was no longer tilting as badly, and she was confident that she could land a jump onto the bar.

She swung a leg over the railing and straddled it for a moment as the world tilted unsteadily. She held onto the railing tightly as the tilting subsided before swinging her other leg over. She placed her feet between the bars that supported the railing, holding onto said railing as she looked down at the bar. Her mind briefly thought that this wasn't the best idea in her drugged state, but she pushed the thought aside; then she filled her lungs with a deep breath, and she jumped.

If she had not been drugged, she would've made the leap no problem; but the sudden rush of falling made her nearly black out in mid-air and as a result she slammed onto the bar like a corpse, knocking over the bottles and plates that rested there with a tremendous crash.

"Aww fuck," She moaned as pain washed over her. The radio was somehow still on the bar, but the bottles that had been knocked over had smashed on the floor. Luckily, none had crushed under her, leaving her uncut.

Eulogy rushed into the room, pulling up his pants with a shocked look on his face. Crimson followed, pulling down her dress and holding her sword at the ready. The two looked at Sarah as she lay spread-eagled and moaning in pain on the bar. Eulogy sighed loudly, stomping over to Sarah to grab her around the waist and pick her up as if she weighed nothing. "What the fuck were you doing?" He snarled at the Sentinel, who was now draped over his shoulder as he walked back towards the room she had been locked in.

She squirmed lightly in his grip, his shoulder digging into her stomach sharply. She struggled to hold her head up, placing her palms against his lower back and trying to support herself a bit. "I wanted to…get out of that room…I-" She tried to say something else but it was slurred too heavily for him to make it out. She trailed off into laughter, her hands slipping off of him and her head hanging as she laughed.

"I think you gave her too much of that tranquilizer, Eulogy," Crimson put in, sheathing her sword and looking at the giggling Sentinel with distaste.

"Me too," He muttered, unlocking the door to Sarah's room. Sarah raised her head to say something, but trailed off into more laughter. Crimson grimaced; the soldier was covered in blood and laughing raucously, she looked like the very definition of insanity.

"Take care of her, then come back to me baby," Crimson said to Eulogy, trailing a hand across his bare shoulders and giving him a lascivious grin before turning away to walk back into his living area. She pulled off her dress as she went, exposing her dark curves.

Eulogy's eyes followed her body lecherously before he dumped Sarah into the small bed in her makeshift holding cell. Sarah's laughing had trailed off and her eyes had drifted shut again, her chest rising and falling with the deepness of sleep. He looked at the woman for a moment due to the irony of her appearance. She was covered in blood like a madwoman, but she slept peacefully; her fingers were twitching and small coos of sleep were escaping from her lightly parted albeit blood smeared lips.

He turned away, locking the door behind him as he went to spend time with Crimson.

...

Sarah slept a deep and dreamless sleep, only emerging from it when her body had fully slept off the effects of the tranquilizer. Her green eyes opened slowly and she lightly stretched. That had been the best she had slept in years. She laid in relaxation for a moment before her mind came rushing back to the present.

She remembered Bronson's attempted rape, and her subsequent murder of him. After that she had dropped to her knees and began stabbing him, and then her mind went blank. Her memory picked up again when she had drowsily woken up in this very room and taken a dive onto the bar from the balcony.

She cringed at the memory and the pain from the fall. Her body was slightly sore, though she suspected it would've felt even worse if she had been completely sober when she took the fall. That had been stupid, but she hadn't been thinking clearly.

She climbed out of the small bed, ignoring the loud squeak it gave as she got up. Testing the door as she did last time, she was unsurprised to see that it was locked. She turned to walk up the stairs again, her mind walking her through the ascent she had made last time. All the memories of the last time she had woken up were blurry and swimmy, but she recalled falling up the stairs.

Her shins had probably already formed bruises from the fall, but checking to see if they were there was the last thing on her mind. The feeling of relaxation she felt moments ago was quickly fading, replaced by pure rage and the feeling of being trapped.

She wanted to get the hell out of Paradise Falls, but killing everyone in it was the thought that overshadowed her need for escape. She scowled as she thought of the types of people that called this place home. She planned to butcher all the Slavers, but free the remaining slaves, most importantly Ray and Jericho. Maybe she would burn this whole damned place to the ground after that. The idea brought a small smile to her full lips, smeared with blood that resembled a macabre lipstick.

She met the balcony with grace instead of with the unsteady gait that she had the last time she had come up here. She looked to the corner of the balcony, finding a skeleton slumped there that she hadn't noticed before. Without a second thought, she snapped the ancient corpse's arm off; the sharp bone would make an excellent weapon.

Sarah turned back to the balcony and perched precariously on the railing. She was crouched on the balcony, ready to jump, when suddenly the door opened and Forty made his way inside. A dark grin crossed her face as the older man stepped inside, shadowed by a younger male Slaver.

She leapt gracefully from the balcony, sailing feet-first into the young Slaver. He was knocked over, the Sentinel landing on top of him in a crouching position. He looked up at her with a mixture of fear and shock; she smiled coldly before ramming the sharp bone into his throat. Forty turned around in shock as the younger Slaver gurgled on his blood.

He was greeted with the sight of Sarah wrenching the bone out of the younger man's throat and turning to look at him with a smile. "Hello Forty," She said, her tone almost playful as she stood and stepped towards him threateningly. He took a step back, his lower back hitting the bar. He would've reached for his weapon, but his eyes were wide with the shocking sight of the Sentinel covered in blood, wielding a bone as her weapon, and a smile as her expression.

She lunged towards him and he jumped back onto the bar in a sitting position, scooting away from her on his ass. She growled as she jumped forward again, straddling him and forcing the bone towards his throat. He caught her hands with both of his and screamed for Eulogy. The Sentinel laughed in response, forcing the bone even closer until her face was inches away from the older man's, her green eyes glimmering with anger and amusement.

Forty's aging elbows screamed with pain and shook as he pushed back at Sarah. The god damn arthritis setting in there was probably going to lead to his death at the hands of this bone-wielding madwoman. "Eulogy! Fucking help!"

Eulogy rushed into the room at Forty's desperate call for help, Crimson and Clover tailing him protectively. He nearly stopped running due to pure shock at the sight, but he forced himself forward, shoving Sarah roughly off of his friend.

The Sentinel fell backwards off of the bar, hitting her head on the hard tiles of the floor. The bone had slipped out of her grip, its surface too slick with blood for her to keep a grip on. She growled lowly and started to get up, but was pinned down as someone quickly straddled her and pinned her bloody hands to the tile. She looked up to meet Clover's brown eyes boring into her own, a smug smirk on her mouth as she pinned the Sentinel.

Sarah glared daggers at the woman. Eulogy's furious voice interrupted their glaring contest. "You stupid fucking bitch! You killed one of my slaves, now you've killed one of my Slavers and nearly killed one of my best men! If you have one more outburst like this, I will not hesitate to blow your fucking head off!" He was screaming at the top of his lungs, the remote detonator to Sarah's collar gripped in his hand and his brown eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. He was clearly fighting the urge to strike the pinned Sentinel.

Sarah suddenly remembered the heavy metal collar around her throat. She had forgotten about the damn thing; her anger had blocked all reasonable thought. She mentally cursed herself and looked over at the blood slicked bone. What the hell had she been thinking? Was she going to take down Paradise Falls armed with a bone? She shook her head at her own stupidity, feeling the urge to facepalm.

Eulogy paced angrily before finally stopping and slipping the remote back into his pocket. "Get up Clover, and pull her up with you. Keep her hands restrained."

Clover gave a dutiful nod and climbed off of the Sentinel. She bent down, hauling Sarah to her feet as if the Sentinel couldn't get up herself. She pulled Sarah's hands behind her back, and held them there with a grip that was tighter than it needed to be. She winced slightly as Clover's grip got even tighter.

"Now I want you to take her to the bathroom and get her cleaned up. I already have a proper outfit for her, so dispose of those bloody rags that she's wearing," Eulogy commanded the woman, who nodded as she was given her orders. He paused for a minute before tacking on, "And…no funny business, okay Clover?" He tacked on, giving Clover a knowing look. Sarah looked back at the other woman with confusion. Why the hell was Eulogy warning Clover not to do anything? Was Clover friends with the young man she had killed?

Clover gave a lascivious smirk and Sarah felt Clover's hand that had both of her own in a vice-like grip press a little closer to her backside. "Of course Eulogy, lover," Clover said in a husky tone, her voice slightly tinged with a Southern accent. Sarah's cheeks flushed and she pulled away a bit, making Clover give a throaty laugh. That was not the kind of funny business Sarah was expecting.

Eulogy cleared his throat. "Alright everyone, do what you have to." He scooped the arm bone off the ground, shaking his head as he looked at the corpse of the young Slaver that Sarah had stabbed. Crimson and Forty made their way forward, Forty giving Sarah a wide berth even though she had been restrained. Sarah smirked as she saw that the normally stoic man still looked more than a little shaken.

Clover began to pull her away from the scene. "Come on, we gotta get you out of those bloody clothes and all nice and clean," She said in her husky voice. Sarah looked over her shoulder, seeing Crimson and Forty picking up the corpse. Forty looked up and met her eyes; as a result, Sarah gave a grin and Forty quickly averted his eyes. Sarah turned her gaze so she was facing forward again and smirked quietly to herself.

Clover led her through the area that made up Eulogy's living area and down a small side hallway and into a bathroom. It was rather large, a toilet and sink sat in the corner while a huge bathtub was the centerpiece of the room. Clover pushed her towards the bathtub and locked the door behind herself. "Eulogy had this thing installed a while ago; it's pretty nice honestly. We have hot water that's mostly clean," Clover said, waiting for Sarah to turn on the water. The Sentinel stared back at her.

Clover raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Well, try it out, lover. What are you waiting for?"

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. "Are you going to watch me like this the whole time?"

Clover gave another suggestive smirk. "That's why Eulogy sent me of course. I have to make sure you don't try to escape or try to hurt yourself, or...anything you shouldn't be doing" Her voice had a mischievous and suggestive tone to it, making Sarah's skin crawl slightly.

Sarah sighed and lightly squirmed under her gaze. "Can you at least look at the wall or something?"

Clover shrugged. "No promises. I…have a wandering eye," She grinned as her eyes settled on Sarah's breasts.

Sarah's cheeks flushed angrily and she turned away. She had to fight her mad desire to hit the woman. She bent over and turned the faucet, surprised that clear, warm water ran out. She hadn't believed Clover at first. "What? How is this possible?"

"Eulogy is a very powerful and rich man. What he wants, he gets. It's as simple as that, lover," Clover responded from behind the Sentinel.

Sarah sighed in response. There were people dying of thirst and radiation poisoning in the Wastes, but some rich slaving fuck wants a jumbo bathtub and he gets it? She shook her head in disbelief as she pulled off her tattered tank top and unclipped her bra.

She stripped quickly, keeping her back to the libidinous woman who watched her every move. She could feel the slave's eyes boring into her flesh and it took everything in her to keep from turning around and killing the woman with her bare hands. Killing Clover certainly wasn't worth getting her head popped by Eulogy though.

She climbed quickly into the steaming water, letting out a small moan as the hot water greeted her aching body. She leaned back slightly, sinking into the water. This…was actually not that bad.

"See, lover? Working for Eulogy can have its perks," Clover said, her voice even huskier than usual; Sarah could hear the smirk in her voice.

Sarah lightly scoffed. "So a fancy bathtub is supposed to make me feel lucky to be enslaved?" She unconsciously settled even deeper into the water, her eyes drifting closed.

"Not just a fancy bathtub; there are fine clothes and weapons as well. You also get safety and company. You've yet to experience the…_pleasure_ that can come from being one of us," Clover responded, her eyes watching Sarah closely as the Sentinel pulled her blonde hair out of its ponytail.

Sarah sighed. The woman was absolutely brainwashed by Eulogy. Sarah disappeared under the warm water for a second to get her hair wet. She resurfaced, lathering the small white soap in her hands before washing her hair. As she spent time here, hopefully she could convince Crimson and Clover to turn on Eulogy. He held the remotes to their collars, but he slept with the two women and trusted them with his life. It would be too easy for them to catch him off guard and kill him.

"Clover?" Sarah asked gently, looking at the other woman over her shoulder and catching her watching her unashamedly.

Clover smiled and met Sarah's eyes. "Yes, lover?"

Sarah bit her lip, trying to look coy. "Don't you ever get tired of Eulogy? I mean, he's not the nicest guy, or the best looking."

Clover grinned suggestively and gave Sarah an appraising look. "If you want me to join you, you only have to ask, lover."

Sarah's frustration rose slightly, but she retained her patience. Of course the libidinous woman had thought she was talking about sex. She gave a fake giggle and shook her head playfully. "Maybe another time; I was just wondering if you ever thought about leaving this place."

The question clearly caught Clover off guard and she appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, but she quickly shook her head. "No. Eulogy cares about me and this is where I belong."

Sarah caught that the slave had clearly wavered, even if it had just been for a moment. "So you never just wondered what else is out there?"

Clover sighed and looked slightly irritated. "I did at first. I wanted to get back out there, but with time I realized that Eulogy had saved me from the nothing I'd become; but let's stop talking about that. Maybe I could wash your back instead?" Her tone quickly changed from reminiscing to hopeful.

Clover seemed to have other reasons for staying with Eulogy, but perhaps she wasn't too far gone yet. "The nothing you had become?"

Sarah looked back over her shoulder as Clover's heels clacked towards the bathtub. The slave took the bar of soap out of her hand before she could protest and began rubbing the lather over the skin on her back and shoulders. "I was…not a very good person; let's leave it at that. Maybe we could talk more about that another time. What about you? Were you really in the Brotherhood?" Clover quickly changed the subject, her hands working gently over Sarah's tense back.

Sarah wanted to pull away from Clover's touch but she forced herself to endure it. If she wanted to convince this woman to turn on Eulogy, she would have to be as friendly as possible. "Yes, I was a Sentinel and the Commander of the Lyon's Pride." She felt herself relax a little; talking about something familiar made her more comfortable and gave her something to concentrate on.

Clover's hands lightly massaged her shoulders. "So were you the commander? Impressive. I could see you barking orders at a bunch of men," She smirked suggestively.

The Sentinel cleared her throat, putting the conversation back on topic. "The Lyon's Pride are the elites; the best the Brotherhood has to offer. I worked my ass off to make that squad and to get my title," She trailed off into a small moan as Clover's agile fingers worked out a knot in her shoulder.

Clover gave a wide grin in response, working her fingers against the knot and eliciting another light moan from Sarah. "Right there?"

"Yes; right there," Sarah let out another low moan, causing Clover to bite her lip. The Sentinel blushed deeply as she suddenly realized the intimacy of the situation. She awkwardly cleared her throat and scooted away from Clover, taking the soap back as she did so.

Clover gave a light sigh of disappointment as the Sentinel retreated. "Why pull away? You're so tense; I can help," She grinned, her tone sultry and suggestive as Sarah looked back at her.

Sarah's emerald eyes widened in surprise and she quickly looked away from Clover. "I'm fine. I'm just going to finish washing and get out of here," She responded, suddenly feeling very awkward. Clover clucked her tongue in disappointment before Sarah heard her heels taking her back to her post at the door.

Sarah made no more attempts at conversation and quickly washed off the remainder of the blood, eager to get out of the bathroom. The situation had gotten awkward quickly; but she blamed herself. She could tell Clover was…libidinous, and that had made her misread the Sentinel's attempts at being friendly.

...

Sarah quickly finished washing and looked around for a towel or her new outfit and finding neither. "Umm…Clover?"

"Yes, lover?"

"There are no towels; or clothes."

"Oh shit. I' m sorry, I forgot. I was…distracted. I'll be right back." The slave gave a sigh before she left the bathroom to get Sarah's towel and clothing, locking the door behind herself.

Sarah sighed with relief when she was finally alone. She looked about the bathroom, seeing no windows she could climb out of. While she was disappointed there was no escape route, she figured it wouldn't do her much good anyway. The only clothing she had would offer no protection from the Slavers, or partial nudity. Plus Eulogy would likely just activate her slave collar the minute that Clover reported her missing. Her mind trailed off as she relaxed in the warm water.

...

Clover soon came back with her toiletries, rousing Sarah from the near-sleep she had fallen into. "Here we go, lover; your towel and a gorgeous dress from Eulogy."

Sarah's emerald eyes snapped open. "A dress? Are you serious?" She spun around to face Clover, not even caring that the libidinous woman could see her bare breasts.

Clover gave a throaty hum and smirked as her eyes dropped to Sarah's ample chest. "Mmm, yes; and it's a rather gorgeous dress in my opinion." She held the dress up for Sarah to see.

Sarah's jaw dropped. The dress was a scarlet red, knee length piece of finery. It was rather beautiful, with a halter style neck and a curve hugging waist. "You've got to be kidding me. It's beautiful, really; but I'm just not a dress kind of girl."

"I used to hate dresses too, lover. But you'll grow to love them. Honestly, I'm a little jealous you got such a special one," Clover's tone became slightly bitter as she scowled down at her own dress, a twin of Crimson's.

Sarah chewed at the inside of her cheek and grudgingly accepted that she would have to wear the dress; all the time. Her anger flared slightly, but she pushed it down. "Alright I guess. Hand me that towel?"

Clover nodded dutifully, stepping forward to give Sarah the towel. "You'll look beautiful, don't worry. That's just part of the reason Eulogy is so taken with you," The compliment came out strangely, her tone sounding more than a bit irritated and jealous.

Sarah looked up at her, shocked. "You sound jealous, Clover."

Clover gave a small huff in response. "I do? Wait until you have to deal with Crimson. That girl has to turn everything into a competition. Crimson was here before me, so she's always been incredibly jealous anytime Eulogy pays any attention to me. I try to be friendly sometimes, but the only time she is ever actually somewhat tolerant of me is when Eulogy forces us to get along."

Sarah stood, turning her back to Clover to hide her naked body from wandering eyes before she began toweling off. "What do you mean, when he forces you to get along?"

"Well lover," she began, her lascivious smirk crossing her lips, "Eulogy likes us to have some…girly fun sometimes. He likes to watch before he joi-"

Sarah quickly cut her off. "Okay Clover! Too much information!" Her cheeks flushed the color of her dress and she physically shook away the mental image.

Clover giggled in response before speaking in a sultry tone while appraising Sarah's backside. "I can't wait until Eulogy lets you join us."

Sarah's cheeks turned an even deeper hue of crimson and she sputtered for a response, making Clover giggle even louder. Sarah shuddered and felt Clover's eyes running over her again. She was starting to hate this even more than being in the slave pen.

Bronson hadn't bothered her (save for the situation that landed her here, obviously) and at least there she only had to deal with Jericho's slightly suggestive jokes, not the outright sexual harassment she would surely endure more of from Clover and Eulogy. It seemed that Crimson would just be jealous instead of lustful. The Sentinel could easily deal with jealousy, but it had been a long time since she had been bothered by lustful comments.

She would have the odd recruit here and there make a suggestive comment about her, but by the time she chewed them out and forced them to respect her, they treated her with nothing but respect and reverence. She could brush off Jericho's comments easily enough; they were usually quite tame compared to some of the things she had heard before.

She pulled herself out of her memories and wrapped the towel around her body before looking over at the scarlet dress that Clover still held. She stepped hesitantly forward, taking it from the slave. "Don't forget these," Clover added with a grin, shoving a black bra with matching panties and a pair of black heels into her arms, "Surely you wouldn't want to run around without underwear on?" The slave added with a wink.

Sarah forced a smile and carried the clothing over to the sink, balancing it on the edge of the porcelain. She kept the towel tucked under her arms, blocking Clover's view as she pulled on the underclothes. She looked at the dress hesitantly before gritting her teeth and pulling the fine red cloth over her head.

She let the towel hit the floor and adjusted the dress, hearing Clover make a throaty sound of approval as the Sentinel put on the heels. "You clean up very well Sentinel Lyons," She was smirking widely, giving Sarah an appraising look.

Sarah turned to look in the mirror, gasping slightly as she saw herself. The dress clung to her figure, accentuating every curve and showing off her long legs. Her blonde curls fell gently to her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with the red of the halter style neck. "A bit of red lipstick and maybe a little eyeliner would really make your eyes pop," Clover's sultry voice put in gently as she came to stand behind Sarah.

"I-I don't even know what to say. I've never seen myself look so…feminine." It certainly was a stark contrast to the power armor she usually wore. She had never really looked at herself or taken the time to dress up. She didn't have the time for such trivialities when she was constantly on the move or in battle. A small part of her enjoyed seeing herself this way, not that she would ever admit it.

"I bet this is how those Pre-War women felt all the time. It would've been nice…but I would miss the violence of the Wastes," Clover said with a grin, examining the two of them in the mirror. She pressed herself close to Sarah's back and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder, her other hand coming up to play with Sarah's golden curls. "You've got the most beautiful hair…" She trailed off, her other hand caressing its way down Sarah's arm as her lips inched towards the Sentinel's neck.

Sarah cleared her throat and blushed as she pulled away from the lusty slave. "Well thank you Clover, but maybe we should get back to the others?"

"Mmm," Clover paused for a moment, already missing the contact that she had felt a moment ago, "Yeah; I guess so. Come on, lover." With that, the slave hesitantly led the Sentinel out of the bathroom and out to her waiting master.

**_Author's Note: So this is the longest chapter yet; a whopping 19 pages. That's a pretty good accomplishment for me, and hopefully I'll be putting out longer chapters more often. Regarding Clover's behavior: I traveled with her with a male Lone Wanderer and a female Lone Wanderer and most of her dialogue is very suggestive despite gender. I interpreted her a bit like I interpreted Isabela from Dragon Age 2; very suggestive and libidinous, yet violent. I hope you guys don't mind because I pretty much had to build most of the character's personalities based on how little information and personality Bethesda gave to them. Anyway, expect Clover to be...well Clover; insane, sadistic, and suggestive. I've rambled enough, and I hope everyone enjoyed!_**


	20. Privileges

_**Author's Note: An update to From The Vault and Wasteland Survival within a week of each other?! I know I'm as shocked as you are. My motivation has been thriving recently and I'm extremely thankful for that. On a side note, I've been going through the older chapters of this story and re-editing them. I've changed little details here and there, like giving a name to Rilon, the Talon that ensalved our heroes, sooner. I also added chapter titles and proper chapter breaks. I nearly forgot to mention something important (again); as of April 4th it has been exactly two years since I uploaded the first chapter of Wasteland Survival. It has been absolutely incredible to be with you all for two amazing years. Now, enjoy the story, dear reader...**_

Wasteland Survival Part 21

*About a week after the trio had been enslaved…

It had been a few days since Jabsco had given payment to Rilon's team for dispatching the troublesome Wastelander that Burke had put the bounty on. The Commander was currently packing a small duffel bag with supplies to take with him on the trek to Tenpenny Tower. He always hated making the long walk to the posh tower, but he didn't complain about the hefty amount of caps he usually left with.

He was still steaming about one of his recent encounters with Burke. The place on his hand where his pinkie used to be still burned and stung like a bitch whenever he accidently bumped his hand on something. The way the pinkie of his gloves flopped emptily around also pissed him off; it looked strange and was a constant reminder of what Burke had done to him. He hoped desperately that none of his men noticed it. He still sometimes had trouble getting them to respect him; they hadn't branded him with the nickname Jetting Jabsco for no reason.

The Commander would surely never hear the end of it if they had learned that Burke had been the one that had cut off his pinkie. None of the other troops had met the man, and as far as they were concerned he was just a rich man in a suit that held too many grudges and far too many caps.

Jabsco had taken to being more brutal towards his men to earn their respect and loyalty. If he so much as heard them question his leadership or call him Jetting Jabsco, he put a bullet through their skull, but his punishments were usually more slow and painful.

"Commander?" A voice suddenly called from behind Jabsco.

He whirled around, seeing the young Scouter Daniels standing rather meekly in his doorway; the Scouter quickly stood up straight and saluted Jabsco. The Commander often questioned why he kept the young man around; he was so sheepish and meek. But his skill with tracking was incredibly impressive and that constantly reminded Jabsco of why he needed Daniels.

"Scouter Daniels," Jabsco said stiffly, returning the salute, "What can I do for you?"

Daniels looked nervously over his shoulder before stepping into the Commander's room and closing the door behind himself. "Well…it's about Rilon and the target he took down for Burke."

Jabsco raised an eyebrow at the Scouter. "Yes?"

Daniels squirmed under his gaze and shifted from foot to foot, keeping his eyes down. "Well, he lied about why we didn't have the target's finger. We didn't really leave him for the Deathclaws; Rilon sold him and his accomplices to Eulogy Jones in Paradise Falls," He stammered out quickly.

Jabsco's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Rilon is up to that shit again? After I gave him a third chance? I promoted him to a fucking Lieutenant for fuck's sake! He's supposed to be one of my most trusted men!" He boomed, hurling his duffle bag at the wall, sending clothes and other random necessities flying around the room.

Daniels dodged a can of Pork'N'Beans that flew out of the bag. "I'm sorry Commander! I tried to talk him out of it, but he wanted more caps. I-I didn't know what else to do!"

Jabsco paced angrily. "I understand Scouter. I'm just so god damn pissed that he would go against direct orders again! What the hell am I going to tell Burke? I can't keep him waiting forever!"

Daniels opened his mouth to stammer more apologies, but he was interrupted when a heavy bag of caps slammed against his chestplate and fell to the floor.

"Take those caps. And thank you for informing me of Lt. Rilon's…mistake. He will be dealt with accordingly," Jabsco said quickly in a businesslike tone, waving the Scouter away.

Daniels scooped up the caps, gave the Commander a quick thank you sir and salute before leaving the Commander alone with a, now messy room, and his reeling mind.

…

Sarah was, for lack of better words, mind-numbingly bored. Day in, day out, it was the same routine. Wake up, do nothing, eat breakfast, use the bathroom or take a bath if she needed to, spend time with Eulogy and his girls, get shipped back into her room for more nothing, eat dinner (sometimes with Eulogy, Clover, and Crimson, or alone in her room), then finally more nothing until she fell asleep. Repeat.

She had already eaten dinner, alone this time, and was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling. She wasn't sure how long she had been in Eulogy's home; the days had begun to run together. She guessed it must've been two weeks, maybe longer.

In the beginning, she had spent every free moment trying to find a possible way to escape. She could no longer consider the balcony at the top of the stairs as a possible route; Eulogy had some of his men put a heavy metal door (painted to fit the color scheme of his home of course) in the doorway that had been previously open. It had two locks, just like the door to her room.

She knew she could pick them, but Eulogy wasn't stupid; he never let her have bobby pins. He never even let her pull her hair into its usual ponytail when she was around him. He loved her blonde curls, loved to touch them and run his fingers through them whenever she was around him. If she misbehaved, he made sure he pulled them hard enough to snap her head back.

If she didn't have the collar around her neck, she would have killed him the first time he had done that. She had to fight the urge to kill him anytime he laid a hand on her under any pretense. He loved to run his hands along her shoulders, arms, legs, any part of her body that showed skin really; his touch made her skin crawl.

She was thankful he hadn't tried to have his way with her. She had been terrified that he would, especially with the way he had eyed her after Clover had first taken her to bathe and give her the red dress. He promised her that she needn't worry though. After their first dinner he had run his fingers through her curls and assured her that he always took his women when they were willing; that's apparently what he had done with Crimson and Clover.

She had laughed at him, telling him that she would never be willing. He had simply given her a low chuckle and said that he was a very paragon of patience.

The Sentinel rolled her eyes at the recollection and shifted in her rather uncomfortable bed, willing sleep to take her.

…

Sarah cracked open an emerald eye reluctantly as the door to her room opened.

"You overslept Sarah. Get up and take that tie out of your hair," Eulogy commanded.

The Sentinel sat up, suppressing a groan as she pulled the tie out of her hair and slipped it onto her wrist. She stood up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and looking at the massive tray of food that Eulogy held out to her. "There's no way I can eat all that."

Eulogy chuckled. "It's not for you; I want you to take this out to the other…workers. You've been surprisingly well-behaved, so I figured I could give you some of your privileges to take a short walk and get a bit of sun."

Sarah gave him a confused look. "I get privileges?"

He chuckled deeply again. "Of course; I can't keep you cooped up forever. The more you show me that you can behave and obey me, the more I will allow you to do. But if you try something, you're losing all your privileges until you show me that you can handle them again," He paused for a second, "You should be grateful really; Crimson and Clover didn't get any privileges this soon and they were more well behaved than you."

Sarah wasn't really shocked that he had given her the privileges early; it was clear that the Slaver had a strong soft spot for her. A smile broke across her face, surprising the man and making him smile back. She wrapped her arms around him awkwardly as he was still holding the tray of food. "Thanks Eulogy; you're really sweet."

It was a lie; anyone other than Eulogy would've been able to see that, but he was too infatuated with the Sentinel to think clearly. Her body pressing against his just clouded his judgment even further.

The smile didn't leave Sarah's lips; these privileges were the first glimmer of hope she had seen in a long time. She had shut down over the past week or so, her hope slowly dying as she realized how trapped she was; but this…this was the best news she had heard in a long time.

If she made sure to be extra sweet to Eulogy, as much as it pained her to do so, she would gain his trust and more importantly, more privileges; privileges that she would make sure to use to her full advantage.

He chuckled against her, "Keep being this good to me and you'll have free roam before you know it."

She pulled away, smiling warmly at him as she took the tray. She kissed him quickly for good measure before making her way out of his sight and leaving him standing there, stunned by the feeling of her lips pressed briefly against his own.

As soon as she was out of Eulogy's sight she lost the cheesy smile and awkwardly balanced the tray on her knee to wipe her mouth roughly with the back of her hand. She hadn't given the man enough time to kiss her back, managing to catch him off guard with the kiss, but just the feeling of his lips on her own made her want to scrub her lips with a wire brush.

The Sentinel managed to hold the tray with one hand and pull open the front door to Eulogy's home with the other; surely luck was the only thing that kept her from dropping the food everywhere as she awkwardly opened the door.

…

Ray's eyes widened as Sarah walked towards the pen. "Oh my god…" He heard Jericho breathe as he came to stand beside Ray at the gate. Sarah looked absolutely beautiful in her elegant red dress. The garment clung to her figure in all the right places, accentuating her curves. Her blonde hair hung down to her shoulders in its natural curls, but her face immediately twisted with worry when she saw Ray and Jericho standing at the gate.

The ex-Raider and the Wastelander looked terrible. They were even thinner than before and their skin was dark with sunburn. This was meager compared to the bruises and cuts that marred their faces. Ray's full lower lip was split and swollen and he had a nasty looking black eye. Jericho looked similar; except his upper lip was split and he had another split just below one of his eyebrows.

They stared at her with their mouths hanging open and eyes wide as she approached. "Oh my god…what happened to you two?" She breathed, setting down the tray and sliding bowls of a questionable looking soup under the fence.

Ray couldn't help but smile just because he had heard her voice again. The last time he had seen the woman she had been covered in blood and shredded clothing, stabbing Bronson into a mutilated mess; he had been unsure of whether or not he would see her again as she had been hauled off, unconscious and draped over Eulogy's shoulder. "We got caught working on our little escape tunnel…they beat us pretty badly, but we're still here."

Sarah wished she could reach through the fence and hug them both; she settled for threading her fingers through the fence instead and resting her forehead against it. "I'm sorry I can't be in there with you guys anymore," She breathed, fighting the tears that were suddenly trying to surface. She hadn't realized how much she had missed them until now.

Ray's fingers met her own on the fence. "Have you been okay? I mean…has Eulogy been treating you okay?" It was the only thing he could think to say to her and he dreaded the answer.

Sarah sighed. "He doesn't hit me that hard; not enough to leave marks anyway. He's incredibly fond of pulling my hair and slapping me down though…"

Ray clenched his jaw in anger; Jericho was more vocal about his displeasure however. "I swear, I'll fucking kill him for laying his hands on you. He hasn't tried anything? Has he?" The ex-Raider fumed, fire burning in his eyes.

Sarah shook her head. "Apparently he will only take me when I'm willing. That's allegedly what he did with Crimson and Clover."

Jericho gave her a quizzical look. "I'm assuming they are the girls in pink dresses that follow him everywhere."

The Sentinel nodded.

Ray decided to ask a question of his own to get the subject away from the despicable owner of Paradise Falls, "How do you get along with them?"

"Good enough, I suppose. Well, with Clover anyway. Crimson isn't taking to me too well; she's jealous that Eulogy brought me around. Clover is a little jealous, but not like Crimson; I think Clover likes me a little too much really…"

"Which one is Clover?" Ray asked.

"The pale one with the white hair," Sarah responded.

Jericho gave a throaty hum and gave her his mischievous grin as he spoke, "Do tell us how she likes you too much."

Ray gave a laugh at Jericho's response, as did Sarah. The Sentinel was shocked that she even missed Jericho's perverted jokes. She blushed slightly as she responded, "Well she's really suggestive in general, but she makes sure that everything she says to me is basically a double entendre. And Eulogy usually makes sure that she's there if I'm going to get a bath."

Jericho gave a chuckle. "Well hello! Please tell me something has happened, kitty cat; morale is incredibly low in here and I could use something to…boost my spirits. Especially if that something is an image of you and that hot chick in a bathtub together…naked and wet and-"

Sarah interrupted him before he could say any more. "Jericho! Nothing has happened," She managed, blushing deeply and laughing slightly.

Ray laughed as Jericho's expression fell. "You dream crusher…please tell me you at least kissed or something," The ex-Raider pleaded.

Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed again. "She's washed my back a few times. She tried massaging it too once, but I pulled away when I realized I was moaning and that it was… too intimate," She admitted, blushing.

Jericho's eyes glazed over and he zoned out for a second. "That's all I needed."

Ray and Sarah laughed. The Sentinel relaxed; being around her friends for just this short time had helped her immensely. Jericho was great at easing tension and lightening the situation, while Ray was always ready to listen to her troubles and lend a helping hand; she would definitely miss them terribly when Eulogy locked her away again.

"Sarah! Hurry it up!" Eulogy was suddenly shouting at her. She stopped laughing and her smile fell when she looked over her shoulder and saw Eulogy standing near the entrance to his house.

She sighed and looked back at the two men behind the gate. "I'm sorry boys, I have to get back. I'm going to miss you," Her voice broke slightly as she threaded her fingers back through the fence and held Ray and Jericho's hands.

She hesitantly took back her hands after a minute and gave them a sad smile before turning to give the children their food. As she walked away, she waved and gave another melancholy smile over her shoulder. The newly discovered loneliness she already felt as she walked away was going to be unbearable.


	21. Drunk Slaves Tell No Tales

_**Author's Note: *Cue the 1920's newsboy* New chapta here! Getcha new chapta here! ... Oh god, I have no idea what possessed me to do that... Probably the fact that it's after 5:30 AM and I've been writing for about 3 to 4 hours. I'm a night owl, but sometimes I really overwork myself. I've been writing A LOT the past few nights. 19 pages for the new chapter of From The Vault (although that one took a bit longer than I expected), 3 pages of a continuance of a humorous Dragon Age one-shot, and finally 10 pages of Wasteland Survival. The last two mentioned stories (as well as about 12 pages of From the Vault) have been written in the past 2-3 nights. So I've been really productive and I'm quite proud of myself ;) I need to cut this short so I can get to bed and rest my aching spine...enjoy the chapter and be warned that it features a drunk Clover trying to...do Clover things...**_

Wasteland Survival Part 22

"How could you go back to selling to Eulogy when I specifically fucking told you not to?!" Jabsco had been screaming himself blue, and Rilon had started screaming back.

"Maybe if you fucking paid me what I want, I wouldn't do that kinda shit behind your back! You know what, Jabsco? You're a fucking pussy and everyone in this goddamn bunker knows it. You just can't stand the fact that you can't control me; I should fucking kill you and run Talon Company the way it should be run!" Rilon was nose to nose with the Commander, his eyes wide with pure rage.

Jabsco recoiled like someone had thrown a bucket of hot water in his face; now that…that was fucking low, even for Rilon. Sick betrayal settled in his stomach, even heavier than before. This man had been one of his most trusted, one of his confidants, his Lieutenant. He drew the Scoped .44 Magnum from his belt before grabbing Rilon by the front of his armor and pulling him close, shoving the barrel of the gun under his chin.

"Oh yeah? I'm a fucking pussy? And you're gonna stage some little piss-ant coup against me?" He pulled back the hammer on the gun with his thumb, a low click resounding in the room as the gun was readied. The barrel was pushed further into Rilon's chin as the Commander seethed with pure rage.

Rilon blanched slightly; he hadn't expected the Commander to actually act on his threats. Without thinking, he headbutted Jabsco as hard as he could. Jabsco gave a grunt as he stumbled back, his Scoped .44 going off and sending a round into the ceiling when he tripped over the slope of the tile. The Commander hit the metal floor with the loud bang of metal against metal as his Metal Armor met the cold tile.

Rilon looked at the Commander with a smirk before turning and calmly exiting the room. The door clanged shut loudly behind him; he looked thoughtfully at the lock before drawing his pistol and putting a single round into the electronic lock, effectively trapping the Commander inside.

Jabsco climbed to his feet, nose spewing blood down his lips from the headbutt, courtesy of his newly mutinied Lieutenant. He turned the lock on the door, but it didn't open. "What the fuck?" He turned it again, more roughly than necessary. When it didn't budge, he started pounding on the door with his shoulder. "God damn it!"

Rilon gave a small laugh at the Commander's shouts of rage. "Have fun getting out of there, Commander!" The ex-Lieutenant activated the Stealth Boy that he kept on his arm and was soon slinking away from the door, invisible to the other Talons.

Jabsco turned to the intercom on the wall, mashing down the button urgently before shouting into the mic, "I want this motherfucking base on lockdown right now! Lieutenant Rilon has mutinied…shoot that son of a bitch on sight! Now I need some tech guys down here to get me the fuck out of this room!"

…

The privileges were a welcome change from being locked in her room all day. Sarah had spent all of her time in Eulogy's house for the past…well, however long it had been since she left to give food to Ray and Jericho. The lack of windows in Eulogy's home made it impossible for the Sentinel to gauge time. If she could make a rough guess, she would guess it had been around a week since she had seen her friends.

There had been some changes in Sarah's life, other than the privileges. Eulogy had been spending more time with her; so had Crimson and Clover as a result. He had also given her access to Crimson and Clover's beauty supplies. There was a wide variety of hair styling tools that had been collecting dust (which led Sarah to guess that the women had had longer hair before), but the Sentinel noted that there was absolutely no bobby pins. _Wouldn't want any of your girls to pick the lock on her collar, or maybe give them to the other slaves, huh Eulogy?_

There were also various make-ups clearly got more use; foundation, mascara, eyeliner, various shades of lipstick, the whole nine yards. Clearly, Eulogy spared no expense for his special girls. How the hell he had even found intact make-up baffled Sarah. She hardly ever used any of it; except for red lipstick, but only because Eulogy made her wear it. He had recently told her that she should begin wearing it; apparently Clover wasn't the only one that had thought it would accentuate her beauty. She only acquiesced in an attempt to get on his good side.

The Sentinel watched Eulogy's schedule closely, but it seemed concrete. There was no way she would have time to sneak out to talk to Ray and Jericho or look for possible points of escape. Eulogy spent most of his time here, but he would go out for a daily round of Paradise Falls just after breakfast. It still seemed that he didn't fully trust Sarah though; he usually left one of his devoted bodyguards with the soldier to make sure she wasn't up to anything.

He usually left Clover, which Sarah didn't mind. Once you got past her constantly suggestive speech, the slave wasn't unpleasant to be around; she was rather funny and full of energy. She talked a lot, something Sarah was actually grateful for. Even though Clover mostly talked about Eulogy, Crimson, or herself (when she wasn't hitting on Sarah, of course), Sarah was just happy to be able to talk to someone, even though she did a lot of listening when she was around the surprisingly bubbly slave.

Just as she thought it would, the loneliness had crept its way in. Sarah never really had to experience being truly alone before. The Brotherhood had always had plenty of people around, and even if she wasn't in the base, she wasn't alone; the Brotherhood always traveled in groups. Clover helped keep it at bay though; Sarah was shocked to discover that the libidinous slave was actually a welcome change from sitting alone in her room or sitting in tense silence with Crimson when Eulogy left her with Sarah.

The Sentinel had tried multiple times to speak with Crimson, but every time she did, the slave had insulted her or ignored her. Sarah was making much better progress with Clover however. The libidinous slave seemed to consider the Sentinel a friend at this point; surely she wouldn't have to try too much harder to get Clover to betray Eulogy.

…

Clover's sultry tone interrupted Sarah from her reverie. "Are you listening, lover? You've seemed so out of it all day."

Sarah looked up from the glass she had been fiddling with, meeting Clover's curious brown eyes. "Yeah…just thinking about Ray and Jericho," She dropped her emerald eyes back to the glass, contemplating filling it with a bit of the whiskey that sat on the table. She didn't typically like drinking, but it was becoming more appealing. Whenever the Sentinel thought about her friends, a depression settled thickly over her.

Clover arched an eyebrow and sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "The guys you came in with?"

The Sentinel sighed. Sarah had been dreading this; the moment when Clover started asking questions about her, no matter what they pertained to about her life. "Yeah…"

Clover made a throaty hum as she went into thought. "So like, who are they? The guy with the scars on his face is kinda cute, in a rugged way," She trailed off and grinned as her mind went to her favorite subject.

The usually stoic Sentinel permitted herself a small laugh. "That's Ray. The older guy with the shaved head is Jericho. We sometimes gave each other a hard time, but they've been really good friends to me." It was true; they had fought bravely beside each other, and they stuck with each other through the ups and downs. Sarah's smile grew a little.

Clover leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she gave the Sentinel a suggestive smile and raised an eyebrow. "Just how good of friends?"

Sarah gave the slave a wide-eyed look and blushed slightly. "Not _that _good, Clover."

The libidinous slave sat back in her chair, looking disappointed. Her eyes trailed off to the floor as she shook her head in disappointment. "Really? Damn it; I was hoping for some juicy stories…"

The Sentinel rolled her emerald eyes and finally decided to pour herself some of the whiskey.

Clover watched as Sarah uncorked the bottle and poured herself a generous drink. The slave chewed at her lip in thought before finally speaking, "Pour me some of that? I've been kinda stressed lately…" She trailed off again, sighing with frustration.

Sarah cocked an eyebrow at the slave before pouring her a drink, pushing the glass across the table. Clover grabbed the glass mid-slide, downing nearly all of it in one drink. A sigh escaped her lips as she put the glass back down with a firm clink. "What's up Clover?"

The other woman fiddled with the glass before meeting Sarah's eyes. "Honestly…it's Eulogy. I'm worried about him. And his relationship with me and Crimson," she paused for a moment, her voice taking on a cynical tone, "All he talks about is you and how he has such great plans for you. It's getting ridiculous; we've only had sex three times in the last week! It used to be all night, every night!"

Sarah awkwardly looked away, sheepishly sipping her own drink. _Okay…things just got awkward. And that was a little too much information…_

Clover took the whiskey and drank straight from the bottle. "I don't want you to think I hate you or anything. I like you; a lot! I just miss the sex. I'm so frustrated!" She took another heavy drink, draining nearly half the bottle.

The Sentinel choked on her own drink, slamming her fist against her chest in an attempt to expel the liquid from her throat. "Clover! Too much information!"

The slave simply shrugged, draining the bottle and letting it fall to the table with a hollow glass sound. "Hey, you asked…" She trailed off into a drunken giggle.

Sarah watched Clover laughing at…something, wiggling about in her seat before letting her head fall onto the table. "I'm assuming you can't hold your liquor too well, huh Clover?" If the slave was drunk, this was an excellent opportunity to get information out of her. The Sentinel's mind raced with possibilities: patrol routes, weak spots in the walls, ways to get the collars off, slaver numbers, etc…

Clover looked up at the Sentinel with a grin, her long white mohawk falling in her face as she shook her head.

_Perfect. _"I see. So, um…tell me about our home. Do you have to make a lot of repairs on the walls?" Damn, this was going to be harder than she expected. How the hell was she supposed to get the information she needed without blatantly asking? This was why she was a 'rush in and shoot your problems away' type of girl, not a 'talk to your problem and try to get information out of it' type of girl.

Clover made a pssht sound and rolled her eyes before letting her head fall back onto the table. "All the damn time! Everyday it's 'Oh Ymir smashed so and so through the bar for insulting Jotun! Better fix it for the third time this week!' When it's not that, it's random weak spots from stray bullets or Ymir smashed someone through a different wall," She trailed off, mumbling something about Vikings and Super Sledges.

_Weak spot at the bar. Thanks Clover. _"What about around the slave pens? Did Ymir ever smash anyone through the fence or anything like that?"

The slave shook her head, looking up at Sarah through half-lidded eyes. "Let's talk about something else. That shit is soooo boring!" She groaned, putting emphasis on 'so.'

_Damn it... _Sarah gave a small hum of thought. "What about Eulogy? Does he ever take the collars off you or Crimson? Maybe for special privileges?"

Clover gave a groan, shifting in her chair so that she was laying her back and head on the table. "Nope, never everrrr…"

_Damn it. There has to be time when he does. He apparently trusts Crimson and Clover so much. _"Are you sure, Clover?"

The slave righted herself in her chair, standing to face Sarah. "Never. Now let's talk about something else…better yet, let's just not talk at all," Clover trailed off into a familiar libidinous smirk as she made her way slowly around the table towards Sarah.

The Sentinel looked up at Clover, confusion coloring her face. Clover grinned wider and pulled Sarah out of her chair, pushing her backwards roughly. Sarah gave a shocked gasp, only to be caught by the soft silk sheets on the ridiculous pink heart-shaped bed that dominated Eulogy's room.

Sarah glared at the smirking slave, propping herself up on her elbows. "What the hell was that for, Clover?"

Clover strutted forward without a word, still smirking as she climbed onto the Sentinel and pushed her back into the sheets in a laying position. "Shh. I'm drunk, and you're pretty, and I'm drunk, and turned on…" the slave managed to slur as she hovered above Sarah, inching closer to emerald eyes and full lips accentuated by ruby lipstick. "I love how Eulogy makes you wear that; shows off your pretty lips…" Clover trailed off again, pressing her lips to Sarah's in a passionate, yet one-sided, kiss.

Sarah quickly pulled out of her state of shock when Clover's lips pressed against her own, one of the slave's hands delving gently into her blonde curls while the other ran down her side to start to slide up her red dress. The Sentinel pushed Clover roughly to the side, making the slave roll off of herself before glaring at her. "What the hell are you doing, Clover?!"

Clover frowned under Sarah's cold glare. "What's wrong, lover? We were getting along so well…"

Sarah sighed heavily and rolled off of the bed. "Clover…damn it. It's just…" she fumbled for a response. She would admit that she had been slightly flirty with the slave in an attempt to gain her favor. Flirty meaning that she didn't shoot Clover down or show her disdain when Clover hit on her. She usually tried to give a giggle and act coy when the slave made suggestive comments about her. The Sentinel didn't want the façade to go further, but she didn't want to push the slave away and lose a needed ally. _I need to play along, yet make things clear that they can't go any further._

"What is it, Sarah? Did I misread your signals?" Clover interrupted her reverie for the second time that day, albeit in a hurt tone this time.

Sarah sighed, her back to the slave. "No, Clover. I just think…this isn't the best time. You're drunk and sexually frustrated right now. Plus Eulogy will be back any second; he'd kill you if you got to have me before him." The urge to shoot someone welled up strongly inside of her. _If I ever have to say shit like that again…someone will be getting shot…_

Clover sighed heavily, flopping back on the silk sheets. "But I want you so bad..." she trailed off huskily, slowly pulling up her pink dress and willing Sarah to turn and look at her.

Sarah covered her ears and gave a cry of anguish. "No Clover! We'll both get in trouble; I have to go!" The Sentinel rushed away from the drunken slave, humming to make sure she completely blocked out everything that she would possibly hear. She rushed into her room, slamming the door behind her and blocking it with a chair.

_Lesson learned; don't get Clover drunk in an attempt to get information out of her…_


	22. About The Other Day

_**Author's Note: This chapter is shorter than I'd like it to be, but I've been having some pretty bad writer's block and I haven't had a lot of alone time to focus on my stories. Sorry guys, but I hope you enjoy anyway :)**_

Wasteland Survival Part 23

The past five days had been absolutely terrible. Sarah had mostly spent them alone, finding it too awkward to face Clover. She was thankful for the three days that Crimson had been here. She didn't have to give the dark skinned woman an excuse so she could stay in her little room near the stairs.

Whenever the Sentinel thought about her reaction to Clover's actions from the alcohol, she cringed. She had no idea how the libidinous slave would treat her when they came face to face again. Sarah felt horrible for how she had reacted to Clover's advances; her response had been rushed and spur of the moment. If Sarah had reacted with a little more tact and a little less overreaction, she wouldn't feel like such a bitch.

Her overreaction had probably set her ten steps back in her attempts to gain the friendship of Clover. The slave hadn't even knocked on her door or attempted to speak with her when she retreated to her room. Maybe she had gotten so drunk that night that she couldn't remember what happened?

Sarah didn't know if Clover remembered kissing the Sentinel or not; but she couldn't avoid the libidinous slave forever. It was time to make things right.

…

Sarah hesitantly poked her blonde head around the corner of Eulogy's room, seeing Clover busily making the large pink bed that dominated the center of the slave driver's massive room. The Sentinel nervously chewed her lower lip before hesitantly entering the room, calling out the slave's name as she did so.

Clover's chocolate eyes darted up to meet Sarah's emeralds. The slave smiled weakly, looking almost bashful as her eyes darted back to the blanket she was smoothing out. "Sarah."

Sarah awkwardly wringed her hands as she made her way to the table that she and Clover usually sat at. _Really should've thought out how I'm going to make this right…_

Clover sat across from her and immediately began speaking. "Sarah, I'm really sorry for the other night. I usually don't apologize for my sexual behavior…but I feel like I forced myself on you. I don't remember much, but I remember kissing you and trying to pull your dress up. You ran and I was trying to take my clothes off and…I was a drunken mess," She trailed off, looking at the wall, a slight blush on her angular cheeks.

_Well…that was unexpected. _Sarah gaped at Clover, dumbstruck. The usually stoic and calculating Sentinel actually stammered for a response due to her shock. "You're apologizing to me? I never thought…well, I thought you would be pissed at me; or unapologetic at least. Or maybe a combination of the two…"

Clover gave a throaty laugh, her warm chocolate eyes darting back over to Sarah. "Lover, I could never be mad at you. I'll admit that I was kinda shocked that you weren't into it as much as I thought you'd be. And disappointed that you didn't even turn around when I started taking my dress off," Clover shook her head slightly, giving a small sigh.

Sarah blushed deeply, unsure of what to say. Clover's next comment knocked her for six. "Oh well Sarah, I felt you kiss me back though. It was just for a second, but then you froze like you realized something," the slave gave the Sentinel a knowing smirk as she leaned forward, propping her head on one of her hands.

Sarah quickly looked away from the slave who had suddenly become shockingly reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. Her emerald eyes kept themselves glued to the neatly made bed as she scrambled for a response. "Clover you were wasted; you must've been imagining it or something."

Clover's grin became impossibly wider. "You're blushing, Sentinel Lyons. I think I wasn't imagining anything. Maybe you did kiss me back, even if it was just for a second…"

Sarah blushed deeper and cleared her throat as she looked about the massive room for a way to change the subject to something a little less awkward. "So…how about that skeleton hanging in front of the projector? Pretty creepy, huh?"

Clover smirked as she took in Sarah's embarrassed demeanor. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed!" The slave averted her eyes to the corpse, cocking her head slightly as she spoke. "And don't worry about that guy; that's just Harmon. He doesn't bother anyone anymore," she waved a dismissive hand at the skeleton, turning her attention back to the Sentinel with a warm smile.

Sarah avoided Clover's eyes, looking up at the skeleton again. "Who was he?"

"The previous head of Paradise Falls. Harmon Jurley. Believe it or not, he was worse than Eulogy. Fucker was a cannibal; ate any slave that didn't sell fast enough. One day Eulogy got tired of his shit and got some of the other slavers together to stage a coup. That was before he got me and Crimson though, so I couldn't tell you about it firsthand."

This was a chance to learn more about her potential ally; Sarah grabbed it with both hands. "So how long have you been with Eulogy?"

Clover hummed in thought for a moment, inspecting her perfect nails as she chewed her lower lip. "Hmm…I guess close to a year. I know he's had Crimson for way longer than me, but he originally brought me in as a slave. Took an interest in me right away though; much like he did with you."

"Why us though?"

Clover's chocolate eyes took on a thousand yard stare, looking past her nails into nothingness. "We're strong; been to hell and back. We can fight…we have history doing nothing but fighting…"

The Sentinel arched an eyebrow at her companion, leaning forward slightly as she spoke. "Why don't you tell me about yourself, Clover? You know I was in the Brotherhood, but I know nothing about you."

Chocolate eyes darted back into the present and away from whatever memory they had fallen into. "It's all ancient history, and none of it matters now. I am where I belong." The slave gave her blonde friend a weak smile, not meeting the Sentinel's eyes before she gazed back down at her own nimble fingers. She put her arms on the table with a sigh, resting her weight on her elbows and keeping her eyes to her hands.

Clover's voice was lacking its usual cheeriness, her husky tone even huskier than usual. Sarah had hit some pang of darkness inside of the woman. Maybe she felt that she belonged here because of her past? "Well, maybe if I tell you about my past, you'll tell me about yours. It doesn't have to be now; we can wait as long as you want. Or you could just keep it to yourself, if you'd rather do that." Sarah gave her a reassuring smile and met her eyes, keeping her voice gentle as she lightly rubbed the back of one of Clover's hands.

Clover gave a genuine smile. "Normally I would make a comment about you rubbing on me, but I can't. Not right now anyway," she gave a short laugh before putting on a serious tone, "Seriously though, thank you for not pushing the issue. It's…really kind of you."

Clover had looked like she was struggling with her word choice, even though every word was sincere. She was so unused to someone actually being kind to her, and Sarah could tell. She smiled back at Clover, before taking her hand back. "Better pull back then, before I push my luck and we have a repeat of last time. And no problem, I can be nice," she gave a small laugh.

Clover grinned before visibly relaxing. "Now that we've gotten all that emotional shit out of the way, wanna help me clean up this place a bit?"

"Of course."

Maybe Sarah had actually found a true friend in her newfound ally. It was amazing…and it could make things more complicated than they already were.

_**Author's Note: Looks like Clover's got a dark history of her own. I've already got it all planned out and I think you guys will love it ;) Also, It seems that we have some Sarah/Clover shippers! I originally hadn't thought about including romance in this story, but I'm reconsidering it. It could bring a lot more to the story, but it won't overpower it. This is Wasteland Survival afterall, and there's lots of nitty gritty problems other than who wants who. Still an interesting little concept that could potentially bring out more complex emotions in some of the characters though... Do you guys have any pairings that you like? Or should our team focus on the main mission here? **_


	23. Spilled Crimson

_**Author's Note: This one was a real fighter. I apologize how long it took me to get this one out, but it really kicked my ass for a long time because I wasn't sure whether or not it was too soon to advance the story with some major events. Anywho, enjoy! This chapter clocks in at almost 13 pages and 3,666 words 0_0**_

Wasteland Survival Part 24

Brown nosing was something that Sarah detested with every fiber of her being, but it had gotten her here. The "here" being the free-roam privileges that Eulogy had granted to her. The feeling of the sun on her skin was amazing, but the fact that she could see Ray and Jericho, even if it was only for fifteen minutes at a time, was even more glorious.

She tried to visit them every day, but Eulogy had taken to making whoever was guarding the entrance to the slave pens, usually Forty or a wicked woman named Carolina Red, make sure that Sarah couldn't speak with her friends as much as she would like. In the past week of her free roam, she had only gotten to speak with them twice. Each visit had ended with her leaving, tears standing in her eyes; but as soon as she got back to her little room near the stairs, the twin dams broke and tears rolled down her cheeks, dragging dark mascara with them if she had worn it.

That was new as well. Clover had shown her how to apply the black eyeliner, even showing her how to make the little wings for cat-eye style eyeliner. The Sentinel wasn't even sure why she wore it. It burned her eyes, but Eulogy and Clover seemed to enjoy it, earning her more of their favor. Ray and Jericho did too; showering her with compliments about how beautiful she was as she stood outside of their little pen.

Despite the outpouring of care from her friends, she refused to cry in front of them. She refused to cry in front of Eulogy and his slaves. She had even refused to cry in front of her own father when she was in the Brotherhood. Maybe it was that she was afraid it would make her appear to be weak, or maybe it was just her own stubborn pride. It was probably a mixture of both, she realized, as she wiped away the mascara that had run down her cheeks.

Sarah stood in front of the massive vanity mirror in the bathroom, scrubbing at her face to remove the makeup. Eulogy's "free roam" still had restrictions. She could not leave before 3 PM, had to be back in for their 6:30 PM dinner, and be home for the night at 9 PM. It was ridiculous, and it made her feel like a troublesome teenager who had to be wrangled in.

"You okay, lover?"

Clover's gentle drawl made the Sentinel jump, the soap that she had been scrubbing roughly at her face with slipping out of her hand and dropping to the floor. She spun to face the other woman, her face still covered in bubbles. "Clover! Don't sneak up on me like that, dammit!"

Clover laughed in her soft tone as she regarded the Sentinel, "It's kinda hard to take you screaming at me seriously when your face is covered in bubbles," the slave paused with a smirk before stooping, picking up the soap, and handing it to Sarah. "Don't drop the soap, Sentinel."

Sarah snatched the soap from the giggling woman before placing it back in its tray by the sink. "Oh shut up," Sarah mumbled before rinsing the bubbles from her face and patting it dry with a towel. The Sentinel put the towel back in its place before sighing at herself in the mirror. Her emerald eyes were irritated, and there were little red blotches on her face from crying. It had been about two weeks since she had apologized to Clover for rejecting her, but the two women had grown even closer. Her tactics for growing close to Clover were paying off, but it was surprisingly easy; the two just naturally got along, despite their differing personalities. Still, Sarah would not admit to crying in front of her new friend.

Clover met her eyes in the mirror, arching an eyebrow. "Have you been crying? Your eyes are all red and puffy. And you've got those little red blotches on your cheeks and forehead," the slave pointed at the Sentinel's reflection, adding emphasis to her observations.

Sarah turned to leave and awkwardly cleared her throat. "No Clover. I just got soap in my eyes."

The slave scoffed and crossed her arms, blocking Sarah's path. "No, no. Don't be like that; is it because they wouldn't let you see your friends?" Her tone became sympathetic and she placed a gentle hand on the Sentinel's shoulder.

Sarah didn't meet her eyes. "I wasn't crying. Just drop it Clover. If you are really my friend, then you'll let me drop the subject."

That worked. Clover's eyes went wide and she instantly began to apologize, "I didn't mean to get into anything too personal for you; don't get mad at me!" To the Sentinel's shock, Clover pulled her in for a tight hug. "Forgive me for being nosy. Please…I don't want to lose you; you're the only real friend I've ever had, Sarah." The slave's voice hitched slightly as she clung to the soldier like her life depended on it.

The normally stony woman was shocked by Clover's sudden mood swing and show of seemingly true emtion, but something inside of Sarah was struck by the slave's heartfelt words. The Sentinel was not a warm, huggy type of woman, but this was her first time really seeing Clover as a person. An overwhelming feeling of guilt struck her as she suddenly realized that she had been rather dismissive of the slave many times. Too many times had she just seen her as a tool for escape; Clover was a human being, no matter how damaged she was. She needed friends just like anyone else. Ignoring the feelings that warned her that she was getting too close with the slave, Sarah gently wrapped her arms around the other woman, hugging her close. "You really look at me like that?"

"Yes," Clover said gently, yet earnestly, her chin lightly bumping the Sentinel's shoulder as she spoke.

Sarah's eyes threatened to tear up in spite of herself; she chalked her feelings up to the fact that the floodgates had been open just a few minutes ago. Still…Clover was being shockingly heartfelt.

"Jesus…I'm sorry, Clover. I didn't realize you thought so…highly of me." She had been called many things in her life. Some of the more demeaning: bitch, sugar-tits, sweetie, blondie; but then there were more respected titles when she grew into her role as a no-nonsense soldier and fearless commander: Private, Commander, Sentinel, etc. But never had she been called a friend; a true friend.

Clover rested her head on Sarah's shoulder, pulling her body flush against Sarah's and hugging her a bit tighter. "I do. Don't ever question my friendship to you like that. I know you don't really know me, and I guess I don't know you that well either…but I don't have anyone. Not really; not like you. You've made me see that!" The slave's voice suddenly changed from gentle and admiring to angry, "Eulogy doesn't care about me, or Crimson, he just fucking uses us! As a matter of fact, fuck Crimson too! She's a fucking bitch!"

Sarah gently pulled away, but kept her hands at Clover's sides, ignoring the slave's second mood swing; albeit this time, it had been into anger instead of fear of losing her friend. The Sentinel's emerald eyes met the slave's of livid chocolate. She kept her voice low, speaking quietly, "Do you see it now, Clover? Eulogy doesn't care about any of us! Do you see now why we have to get out of here?"

Clover nodded quickly, her eyes softening slightly. "I…I don't want to be here anymore, Sarah. I told myself that I deserved this…for what I did before; I told myself that Eulogy saved me from myself. None of that is true though…I'm a shitty person, but I don't deserve this. No one deserves this; especially not you," The slave's eyes were pleading, gentle, and the most human Sarah had ever seen them. There was no twinkle of madness or lasciviousness, just a captured and hurt woman who was terrified and bearing her soul.

Sarah gently brushed Clover's ivory mohawk away from the slave's suddenly doe-like eyes. "Shh, Clover. I don't care what you did before, it doesn't matter now. We are just surviving now, and what matters now is that we get my friends and get the hell out of this place!"

The slave nodded gently. "You're right, lover," she paused before tacking on with an uncharacteristic blush, "you've got brains and beauty." There was that little twinkle of mischief in her eye, along with something that Sarah had never seen before, and couldn't quite place.

Sarah gave a genuine smile and blushed gently, realizing that she was still holding onto Clover's hips, the slave's arms lightly draped around her shoulders. The intimate position was unusual, and it made Sarah slightly uncomfortable, as intimacy and feelings were not her forte; especially when she didn't understand what herself was feeling. Before she could drop her hands from the slave's waist, Clover was pressing her lips passionately to Sarah's; the slave's arms pulling the Sentinel flush against herself.

The Sentinel froze in shock from the kiss, her shock deepening as Crimson stepped into the bathroom, giving a gasp of shock as she took in the intimate sight before her with wide eyes.

Sarah pushed Clover away, emerald eyes wide and meeting Crimson's of a furious brown. "Just when I thought that you two couldn't be any more of a pair of traitorous whores! Now I what you two did all day, locked up in here with each other when I was out with daddy! I fucking heard _everything_," the dark skinned slave threateningly drew her sword, pointing the tip at Sarah and slowly stalking forward.

"Where's Eulogy?" Sarah managed, backing up until her knees hit the edge of the massive bath tub.

"He's on his way; he sent me home to get ready for bed and wait for him. When he gets here, we'll kill you both!" The slave was shouting in anger, her face flush with pure rage as she stalked towards Sarah, "Maybe I'll speed it up, show you what happens when you betray daddy, then sit around telling secrets 'bout escaping!"

With that, Crimson lunged at Sarah, the deadly point of her sword making a path straight for the Sentinel's throat. Sarah sidestepped the move, causing Crimson to fall into the empty bathtub with a cry of anger. Her forehead clipped the edge of the porcelain, splitting the dark skin and staining the previously spotless bathtub with fresh blood.

Crimson sat up slowly, groaning and holding her hand to her gushing forehead. Sarah innocently raised her hands, trying to calm the slave down, "Look Crimson, I know you're pissed; but this was not what it looked like."

Crimson stumbled out of the tub with a growl and angrily jabbed her sword at Sarah. "Shut the fuck up!"

Clover suddenly interrupted the two, rushing forward and kicking Crimson as hard as she could in the gut. The dark-skinned woman reeled backwards from the blow, hitting the small table covered with various beauty products and making it slam into the large vanity mirror, shattering it. "Back the fuck up, Crimson!" Clover snarled, eyes sparkling with rage and brink on the brink of insanity.

Crimson fell from the table, landing in the pile of glass, the aforementioned glass making a dull crunching sound. Clover and Sarah exchanged a pointed look when the woman didn't climb to her feet after a few seconds.

"Crimson?" Sarah called out, stepping forward tentatively and expecting the dark skinned slave to jump to her feet and take out her pain and rage on the Sentinel. But as Sarah got closer, she could see deep scarlet staining the floor near Crimson's torso. "Oh shit!" She cried out, falling forward onto her knees and turning the other woman over.

A long, jagged piece of the mirror stuck out of the woman's chest, deep crimson flowing freely from the wound; the slave's eyes were glazed over, giving a thousand yard stare into blank space. Sarah looked over her shoulder, panic filling her heart. "Clover! She's dead!"

Clover's jaw dropped as she took in the sight before her; her normally smooth and collected tone uncharacteristically shaky as she spoke. "She definitely won't be missed. But, Sarah…you know what Eulogy is going to think."

Sarah slowly rose to her feet, eyes unable to leave the reflection of themselves in that jagged piece of mirror sticking out of Crimson's chest. "I know. We have to get the fuck out of here. Now."

The two women didn't have time to discuss their plans as the heavy front door of their captor's home slammed and his deep voice echoed out. "Girls! Daddy's home!"

The Sentinel and the Slave exchanged a panicked glance as fear blanched in their hearts. Sarah's mind rushed to think of a plan, going into full Sentinel mode. She rushed towards Crimson, wrenching the sword from her dead fist. She pressed herself against the wall by the door, Clover mirroring her on the other side of the door.

The eyes of the two women remained locked until the moment when Eulogy finally walked through the door. As he stepped through, he was immediately hyperaware that his little paradise was on the brink of chaos. Crimson lay in a pool of her own blood, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as a piece of the shattered mirror protruded from her chest; he didn't have much time to react to this however, because all he could see was wild emerald eyes.

Sarah gave a low grunt as she hilted the sword in her wannabe master. She was face to face with the wicked man, his brown eyes wide with betrayal and shock. Clover gave a cry of joy and ecstasy from her post by the door, chocolate eyes wide with bloodthirsty insanity. Sarah smirked as fear passed through his eyes, and twisted the sword within him, satisfied with his warm blood running up the handle and meeting her hands.

_I won. Don't try to tame a Brotherhood Sentinel, you pompous fuck. _The moment was incredibly glorifying, but short-lived. The fear and betrayal dropped from Eulogy's eyes as he took in her wild grin of victory. With a snarl, he raised his fist and punched the Sentinel in the jaw as hard as he could. Sarah fell backwards and onto the cold tiles of the floor, her dress a wild flurry of red around her. Her head cracked the tiles hard, making stars explode in her vision.

Clover's rage spiked as she saw Eulogy strike Sarah down. She rushed him, aiming to leap on his back and gouge his eyes from her perch on him, but he spun around surprisingly quickly. The slave driver grabbed his former lover by her throat and slammed her against the wall, bringing his face close to her own. He spoke through clenched teeth, making spittle hit her in the face, "You want to betray me, huh? You and this stupid bitch!" He paused to slam Clover's skull into the thick tile, splitting the back of her head open, "You stupid fucking cunts killed Crimson! My Crimson! She was worth two of you, Clover!"

Clover clawed at his fist as it tightened around her throat, threatening to choke the life from her. His words still cut her, making her realize that she had not completely severed her attachment to the cruel man. Her eyes darted wildly about and she gagged as his grip tightened.

Sarah shook the stars from her vision, her jaw giving a heavy and pulsing ache when she moved her head. She groaned lowly, spitting out blood and looking up at Eulogy. He had his back to her now as he choked Clover, her eyes bugging out and darting about, panicked. The Sentinel stumbled to her feet, taking off one of her heels and closing the distance between herself and Eulogy before stabbing him in the back with the heel.

The man roared, dropping Clover and spinning around to punch Sarah in the side of the head. Pain erupted in her temple and cheekbone as his sharp knuckles connected with her cheekbone and her temple. The Sentinel's head met those cold, hard tiles again, blackness consuming her mind instantaneously.

Clover choked and spluttered from where she sat on the floor, cradling her throat with both hands and watching Sarah fall with wide and terrified chocolate eyes. Eulogy towered above the slave, brown and livid eyes boring down into her own as she looked up to meet them. The sword still stuck from his belly, a single drop of blood dripping from the handle and landing on her pale leg.

He hauled her up by her biceps, slamming her against the wall. "What the fuck were you thinking Clover? Why the fuck would you help her? You don't even care about her!"

Anger replaced the fear in the small woman's eyes. Defiant as ever, she spat in his face before snarling her response through bared teeth, "You don't know who I do and do not care about. Fuck you, _daddy_!"

The slave driver's eyes shot open wide as Clover's words, and saliva, smacked him in the face. He backhanded her, making her head crack into the wall again. "You're gonna have a lot of making up to do for this shit! You ungrateful little bitch!" He grabbed her by her short hair, prompting a scream and fists wailing into his side. He started dragging her to Sarah's little room by the stairs, intent on locking her in there.

Clover stumbled awkwardly and painfully along with him as he led her by the hair. "Fuck making up! And fuck you! I want to leave!"

He jerked her into a standing position, his eyes boring intensely into hers as he spoke as coldly as he could, "Fine with me; I planned on selling you anyway and replacing you with Sarah. You're a fucking worthless bitch, and I regret the day that I ever pulled you in here and out of the Wastes. I should've let you stay out there, running with your gang, getting fucked by anyone you pleased, killing and stealing to get your fucking drugs! I made you into someone and you fucked it all up!" He paused to smirk at her, "The next fat nasty fuck that wanders in here wanting a girl to fuck and abuse as he pleases can have you."

Eulogy's words cut her deep and rubbed salt into the wound, she could feel her face twist with hurt as he went on his tirade, but she held back any weaker emotions that threatened to spill over. She grabbed the hilt of the sword that still stuck out of his belly and twisted it in a full circle, giving a sadistic smirk as his screams of agony filled her ears.

The slave driver shoved the slave into the room, her grip on the sword not loosening and causing the blade to quickly rip out of his flesh. The sword clattered to the floor near her as she fell onto her ass, and Eulogy quickly scooped it up, gasping and sputtering in agony as he did so, before slamming and locking the door behind himself.

…

Clover sat there, stunned for an immeasurable amount of time. In just a few minutes, her life had fallen apart while simultaneously being born anew. It was a familiar and terrifying position; one chapter ending and another beginning as quickly as the last died.

The death of Crimson had been significant. The woman that she had spent so much time with, even though most of it was fighting and the other small amount had been times where the two had been forced to get along; was now dead. Crimson's death didn't hurt Clover as much as it shocked her. In all reality, she was quite glad that the other slave was dead.

Eulogy on the other hand…she was taking the loss of his affection terribly. His words still stung, even worse than the split he had put on the back of her skull. Much of her hated him at this point, but he had been her life for a long time. He used to be the reason she woke up, she would've taken a bullet for him before. Before she met Sarah.

The Sentinel had intrigued her from the moment they first dragged her into Eulogy's home. She had been passed out and slung over Forty's shoulder, her clothes looking like she had worn them to hell and back. She was soaked with blood and her several strands of hair that had come out of her ponytail were plastered to her face with the scarlet liquid.

The slave remembered the first time that she had seen her awake too; when she had allegedly jumped off of the balcony above this very room and murdered one of the recruits with a broken arm bone. Then tried to kill Forty and Eulogy with said bone.

Clover smiled weakly at the memory and crawled into the bed that was previously Sarah's. She hugged the flat pillow to her chest, smiling wider as she smelled the Sentinel on it.

Somewhere along the path of Eulogy trying to "domesticate" the Sentinel, Clover had begun to see the woman as a best friend. Sarah could be quite awkward at times, clearly not used to wearing a dress and being hit on by another woman; or joking with said woman, but still attempting it.

The slave's smile dropped as she realized that she had no idea what would happen to her best and only friend. Eulogy was not a man to be crossed, and he sure as hell wasn't a man that you failed at killing…

_**Author's Note: Well holy schiesse! Some major stuff went down in this chapter! R.I.P. Crimson. You...were not a very developed character XD I tried to show some of Clover's crazy side in this chapter, hence the mood swings, clinginess and slightly insane attachment to Sarah. I also tried to show that she is genuine at times, when she proclaims Sarah as her best and only friend, and when her hatred for Eulogy starts to really sink in. **_

_**Some character development with Sarah too; realizing that Clover is a woman with many issues and it was cruel of her to use her as a tool for escape. **_

_**On a different note, I wanted to write some sort of special for Halloween, but I was unsure how I should go about doing it. Should it take place in Wasteland Survival, From The Vault, or should I do a little one-shot? Thanks for reading and tell me what you think in your review! **_


	24. Claimed

_**Author's Note: So I know that I should've updated From The Vault, as per my usual update schedule, but my muse for said story currently hates me. Plus, there is major shit going down in Paradise Falls. I'm still planning on doing the next chapter of FTV in a Halloween theme, even though its really late...but I promised, and I hate breaking promises. Hopefully, I can get some more inspiration to continue Alex's tale soon, and hopefully it won't be a long wait. Alex hates waiting...**_

Wasteland Survival Part 25

The Box. Sarah used to stare at the Personal Preservation Machine that had been converted into this cruel punishment for unruly slaves. She hadn't actually known that anyone was inside of it, until the previous occupant was ripped out of the machine, and she was trapped in his place.

The Box was small and arguably the most uncomfortable place that she had ever been trapped in. There was just enough room to sit down, if she wanted to, but the floor was the same incredibly hard metal that made up the rest of the machine; she would rather stand than make her ass go numb on this metal floor. A small tube protruded from the wall, presumably for the occupant to empty their bladder into. _Do you shit in it too? _The Sentinel did not want to be in here long enough to find out.

If she had to guess, she had probably been in The Box for about a day, possibly a little longer. Her attempt to kill Eulogy had been a complete and utter failure, only succeeding in getting herself terribly beaten, and god only knows what he had done to Clover. Her head throbbed painfully, and her jaw ached like it had been hit with a sledgehammer every time she moved it. Talking would be painful…eating would be hell. She was lucky to not have lost any teeth from the powerful blow.

Eulogy may have had her defeated in that battle, but all he had done was piss the Sentinel off; she was in no way a woman who accepted defeat.

Sarah didn't have any more time to marinate on what had happened, as the door to The Box suddenly flew open, blinding her with the midday sunshine. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness of The Box; she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright glare, and said hand was suddenly grabbed roughly and used as leverage to rip her from The Box. She gave a yelp of surprise as she was caught so that she wouldn't hit the ground from the sudden loss of balance.

Eulogy held her by her biceps, spinning her to face an incredibly tall figure. The Sentinel was forced to narrow her eyes and shield her face again from the sunlight as she tried to look up at the stranger's face.

"So, what do you think, man? She the kinda girl you're looking for?" Eulogy's voice was all sleazy business man, his expression mirroring it with an impish grin as he ran his hands up and down her biceps.

Sarah's skin crawled at the contact, but all she could register was her potential buyer. The figure was that of a man, clearly, incredibly tall and lightly muscled. But the man's body was covered, head to toe. On his head was a Raider Blastmaster Helmet, while his body was covered with Leather Armor. His armor had both sleeves however, completely hiding all of his skin. On his back was a crossbow, of all things, while at his hip was a Scoped .44 and a rather large Combat Knife. The man said nothing as his eyes examined Sarah from behind the helmet, before suddenly giving a quick nod.

"Excellent! My going price is currently 4,000 caps, and she is yours!" Eulogy exclaimed, all but bouncing in excitement despite the sharp pull of the wound on his stomach.

The stranger wordlessly thrust a bag of caps at Eulogy and held his hand out expectantly for the remote to her collar. The exchange was made, to the pure joy of Eulogy, and the dread of Sarah. She watched the exchange with emerald eyes wide and her bruised jaw hanging open.

"Nooo! God damn it! You can't do this! You fucking bastard!" The Sentinel's eyes were drawn to Ray, who stood shaking the fence so violently she was surprised that it didn't come crashing down. This was the most livid she had ever seen the normally calm and collected man. His eyes were even wider than her own, and within them swirled worry, hatred, and pure rage as he continued his thunderous outburst. "Fuck you Eulogy! You better fucking stop this shit right the fuck now!" He shoved his hand through one of the small holes in the fence, gesticulating at the slave driver aggressively. "If anything happens to Sarah, I swear to god I'll fucking rip you open myself!"

Jericho and Bleak stood near Ray, wearing expressions twin to Sarah's. The shock of Sarah's sale was escalated much further by the normally pacifistic Wastelander's sudden outburst. He shook the fence even harder, causing one of the metal clamps holding it in place to suddenly pop off and making the section considerably weaker, buckling forward slightly.

"God damn it!" Eulogy hissed, shoving his caps in his pocket before motioning for two burly looking Slavers to stop Ray's tirade. He looked back at the stranger, shoving Sarah roughly into him. "Get that bitch outta my sight!" Sarah struggled against the man, screaming at the top of her lungs as he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up effortlessly. Her arms were pinned, but she kicked as hard as she could, the blows that hit his shins bouncing harmlessly off of his armor as he walked away with her.

"See ya later, Sentinel! Don't worry, I'll take good care of Clover! And your friends!" Eulogy called after her mockingly, giving her a salute and a devilish grin.

Sarah struggled even harder, but the man was stronger than she originally thought, bringing her even closer against his armor so roughly that it felt like her ribs might snap from the pressure. She could hear Ray screaming with her as he fought the Slavers. "God damn it! Get the fuck off of me! You can't do this! Ray! Clover! I'm not leaving you! I'll be back, I swear!" She opened her mouth to yell more, but something rammed into the back of her skull with enough force to make her chin bounce off her chest and cause deep blackness to consume her mind.

…

When the Sentinel awoke, she was swaddled in warmth and, surprisingly, her head didn't hurt at all. If anything, her mind felt a little swimmy, and she had a pleasant all-over tingling warmth, bordering on being warmly numb. She slowly cracked her eyes open, before sitting up slowly and cautiously, giving a low groan as her head swam. Had she been given drugs? This felt like Med-X.

The Sentinel looked about, taking in her surroundings. She was in a home, not some store or a Wastelander's ramshackle shack, but an actual Pre-War designed home, like the townhouses in DC. The area was rather cozy, and she lay on an ancient couch, wrapped caringly in ancient blankets. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked towards the only light source in the room, a fireplace; the stranger that had purchased her crouched in front of it, stirring at the wood and embers with a fire poker.

He had his back to her, and he still wore that ridiculous helmet. She could easily get up and strangle him from behind if she wanted to, but the Med-X had made her terribly dizzy and slowed her reaction time. The man had turned to face her just as she was trying to get up to attempt her attack.

He pushed her back into a laying position with a large and surprisingly gentle hand, shaking his helmeted head as he did so. "What the fuck…did you do to me?" Sarah managed, her voice hoarse from screaming and dryness.

The stranger simply pointed at her face, then a tiny hole on her forearm, before handing her a bottle of water. The Sentinel arched an eyebrow and took the bottle before feeling where her jaw was previously sore. Damn..she hadn't noticed that; it didn't hurt anymore and there was very minimal swelling. "You gave me a Stimpak? And Med-X?"

He gave another wordless nod before gesturing to the bottle of water. Sarah drank hesitantly, the water soothing her dry mouth and making her stomach a little less empty. It growled loudly as the water hit it; she hadn't eaten in nearly two days now. I placed a palm against her flat stomach, grimacing slightly as it gave a sudden lurch.

The stranger stood from his place in front of the fire and handed Sarah a bowl of some kind of warm soup and a spoon. She sat up, resting her back against the arm of the couch and sitting the soup on her lap. She cast her piercing eyes at the man, suspicion and confusion dancing in them. "What's your game? Why did you buy me?" Somewhere inside, she was grateful for the man. He had gotten her out of Paradise Falls, and away from Eulogy. He had given her medicine, clean water, warm food, and a roof over her head. But he had torn her away from her current mission; protecting her friends and getting them out of that hell hole. God only knew what Eulogy was doing to them. Just thinking about that smug bastard in that eyesore of a suit made her clench her jaw, the pain dulled by the Med-X coursing through her veins.

The man said nothing, just gave her a wordless stare before pointing at the soup. _Eat._ Sarah stared at him, a slight frustration growing within her. Why the hell wouldn't he talk? Maybe he was deaf, or mute? She looked away from the man, noting an empty bowl near his feet, remains of soup glistening wetly in the bowl as the firelight flickered over it; looked like she wouldn't be seeing his face anytime soon. She gave a frustrated sigh, casting her eyes downward into the soup before hesitantly bringing the spoon to meet her lips.

It was surprisingly good, and the warm broth soothed her stomach. She ate quickly, the strange man lounging on the floor silently the whole time. The Sentinel thought that he might be watching her, but it was hard to tell with the helmet on. It was somewhat unsettling; for all she knew he could be watching her, or he could be sleeping. She finished the soup quickly, leaning back slightly in contentment. She looked over at the man, giving him a meaningful look. "I…thank you. For the food and medicine, I mean. But we have to go back to Paradise Falls," she paused for a moment, waiting to see if he had any comments. Unsurprisingly, he had none, so she continued, "You don't know we from a damn hole in the ground, and I don't know you. I don't know why you bought me, or even what you plan on doing with me, but you have to know this. My name is Sentinel Sarah Lyons, and I'm with the Brotherhood. The man that was yelling in the slave pens, he is a very good friend, and he has enemies in very high places. My Elder assigned me to a special ops mission with that man, to eliminate Talon Company and the land barons known as Alistair Tenpenny and Mr. Burke." She paused again, but once again he just stared at her, his expression hidden and unreadable.

She growled slightly in frustration. "Don't you get it? Now Paradise Falls is on that shit list too. We can take out three of the biggest players in the Wasteland, so we can focus on defeating the Enclave and keeping the Muties at bay. Talon Company, Alistair Tenpenny, and Paradise Falls…they're all alike. They prey on innocent Wastelanders to make caps. Do you know how many people we can save if they are dead? You just gotta take this collar off of me, give me a weapon, and you could come with me if you wanted."

The stranger said nothing; he just stood and crossed the room to take the bowl from Sarah, replacing it with a battered brush and a familiar hair tie. She sighed heavily and looked down at the items. "Did you hear anything I just said? Don't you understand what is at risk here?"

He nodded before motioning to the items and pointing upstairs. Sarah nodded, "Yeah yeah, I get it." She took the hair tie and slid it back to its place on her wrist, wondering why it had come off in the first place. The Sentinel stood, no longer feeling dizzy from the Med-X; the food and water had done her a lot of good. She looked down at her feet, finding them bare and noting that the heels that went with her dress were sitting on the floor near the couch that she had been laying on. Her heart gave a pang of hurt as she looked down at the heels, then her dress. They reminded her of Clover. _Clover…_

She bit back the emotions that threatened to surface and took a candle from the man, to light her way as she ventured up the stairs. She ascended the stairs quickly, making her way into the bathroom and closing the ancient door behind her, its hinges creaking loudly. She set the candle on the sink and gripped the edges of the ancient porcelain, staring at her reflection. Thankfully, there was no makeup to run as tears suddenly sprung from her eyes, she had scrubbed it all off before Crimson and Eulogy attacked herself and Clover. "God damn it…" Her voice hitched slightly and she struggled to lock the tears away. She felt like a failure; she had been bested by a slave driver in battle, and as a result, she had no idea what he would do to her friends.

She silently thanked that the man had directed her to the bathroom. The stoic Sentinel did not like to show these emotions in front of others, it was unbecoming of her, and it was not something a soldier did. Sarah turned on the tap, quickly washing her tear streaked face and scrubbing some of the blood from under her nails and the little bit on her hands. She scrubbed more roughly than necessary, but she did not want any trace of Eulogy anywhere on her.

Looking to her right, she noticed some clothes on the lid of the toilet. The man must've put them here. She smiled slightly, and pulled her red dress off, folding it carefully and putting it on the lid where the other clothes sat. She washed her body with water from the sink, before finally feeling ready to put the clothes on. She drew the new clothes out, putting on the black cloth pants first, before pulling the white t-shirt over her head, finally pulling on the red jacket over it. She quickly put on the socks and the knee high boots that went with the rest of the outfit. It reminded her of the Wasteland Wanderer outfit, albeit with different colors.

She quickly brushed her hair and pulled it back into her usual ponytail. The Sentinel managed to crack a smile at herself in the mirror; it had been forever since she could wear her hair tie. She was starting to feel a bit like her old self; however, the heavy collar around her neck reminded her of her situation. She bit her cheek and collected her dress and the brush that the man had let her use before making her way back downstairs. She turned the brush over in her hands, looking down at it with curiosity. The blue plastic was faded and chipped, and the name Alison had been carved deeply into the back of the head of the brush. The name was faded and worn, but still deep enough to be legible. Why would this burly man have a girl's brush? Who was Alison?

The Sentinel gave the man a curious look, but did not question him on the name as she handed the brush back to him. He gave her a single nod once again before carefully tucking the brush into a pocket on his bag, his hand lingering over the pocket for a second longer than necessary, his helmet looking down at the place where his hand lingered. Sarah arched an eyebrow at him, before going back to her seat on the couch. There was something strange about him; he was definitely not the typical sort of guy that bought a slave.

**_Author's Note: Well, looks like Sarah sold quickly. At least the guy that bought her seems nice, right? But what are his motives? Who is he? Who is Alison? Looks like we got more questions than answers in this chapter! _**


	25. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

_**Author's Note: First of all, I would like to apologize for the four months it took to complete this chapter. Life has been crazy; I've been super stressed out and haven't had much time to concentrate on writing anything. Anyway, today is a major day for Wasteland Survival! This marks the third anniversary of this story, so happy birthday to WS! Thank you all for sticking with me for so long and encouraging me with your kind words, despite my terrible update schedule :) Also, major questions answered in this chapter, so read on and enjoy! **_

Wasteland Survival Chapter 26

The man had not spoken a single word. Not one single goddamned word in the entire five days that she had been his property; no matter how much Sarah said to the stoic man, he said nothing. Was the man deaf? Mute? Or perhaps he was simply ignoring every word the Sentinel uttered. The silence was becoming maddening. She began to regard her own voice as unnecessary noise and she soon stopped trying to engage him altogether. Her master never gave her his name either; he didn't have the courtesy to scratch it in the dirt with his boot.

The days were spent wandering around the ruins of DC, scavenging what they could, exploring different neighborhoods, and taking down whatever enemies they faced. The man was surprisingly effective with the crossbow, firing with nearly impossible agility and speed. Due to the fact that he would not provide her with a weapon, Sarah was usually forced to hide during battles, much to her own humiliation. She was a Brotherhood Sentinel, goddamn it; not some fragile fucking princess that needed to be protected and saved.

On her mind was constantly one question; why the hell had the man purchased her? He did not use her as a bodyguard (he clearly did not need one), he did not use her as a pleasure girl (thank god), and he never ordered her to do anything. She never even carried anything for him, so she was not being used as a pack mule. She just followed him around; if anything she felt like he was taking care of her, a strange air of protectiveness surrounding the man. He had given her a simple leather bag, which she used to carry what meager possessions she had: the dress and heels that Clover had given her at the behest of Eulogy, and a Pre-War book that she had found in a house. The book came in handy for the nights; when the sun started to go down, they would retire to the same townhouse that she had woken up in five days ago.

It was the same schedule every night: the man would make sure no one was in the house, then he would go about preparing whatever food he had scavenged or killed that day; she would eat in silence, then Sarah usually went upstairs to the small bathroom to clean up a bit before going back downstairs, reading, and going to sleep. Her strange captor would usually clean his weapons before leaning back against his duffel bag and crossing his hands over his stomach. She couldn't tell if he actually went to sleep or if he just stared into the nothingness, due to the damn helmet that he never took off; that damn Blastmaster helmet was another constant. His lack of removing it made her question when he ate. Possibly when she went upstairs or maybe after she went to sleep?

Despite all this man's habits, his silence annoyed her the most. The silence provided her with too much extra time trapped inside her mind. All of her worries and concerns were bubbling up, making her a nervous wreck; unwarranted questions about her beliefs hammered away at her sanity in the brief moments that she wasn't worrying about her friends. Her body followed this man, running seemingly on auto-pilot, but her mind was far away, in Paradise Falls. Gruesome images ran through her mind of Eulogy torturing and killing her friends. Were they even alive? Did he sell them? Was he torturing them somewhere?

She worried about Ray and Jericho, of course, that was a feeling that had not gone away since she had first killed Bronson and gotten hauled off to Eulogy; but her new and ever present worry of Clover was absolutely foreign to her. The pale woman popped into her mind far more often than was reasonable. In some ways, it made no sense to her, but in others it made perfect sense. She barely knew the slave, and knew nothing about her history before Eulogy; but she had spent most of her time in Paradise Falls bonding with the woman in an attempt to gain her trust, and to the Sentinel's own shock, she had actually created a bizarre, yet close, friendship with the slave.

The pale slave was the only person in Paradise Falls that displayed any modicum of civility and kindness to her, other than the time she had kicked Sarah in the back of the head to keep her from killing Eulogy when they had first arrived, of course. Yet that incident had never been brought up again between the two, despite how much Clover spoke of Eulogy. The more the two talked however, the less Clover spoke of Eulogy, and the more she became curious about Sarah. She wanted to know everything about the Sentinel; what was her favorite color, her favorite song, did she prefer sweet snacks, or savory ones?

It was strange at first; Sarah did not see the point in Clover knowing these little facets about herself. They were frivolous, insignificant little things. How would the fact that her favorite color was blue or that she detested Fancy Lads Snack Cakes have any effect on her skills? Surely information about her background with the Brotherhood would be far more useful. It was something that mattered, skills that were valuable and useful.

But soon she became accustomed to the questions, even welcomed them. The simple fact that Clover was interested in these seemingly random little segments of information about her that made her normal Sarah, and not stoic Sentinel Lyons, had begun to make her feel a strange sort of carefree bliss; she felt human when Clover brought around her carefree nature and random inquiries. Was this how normal people felt? People that weren't always on dire missions, people that were looked at as friends, sisters, neighbors? People that were just human and not a weapon to be pointed at an enemy?

Her heart and soul were always with the Brotherhood. She was the most respected member in their chapter, other than her father of course, but it had occurred to her that she was always just _that; _a respected soldier, at best, a weapon to be wielded against enemies of the Brotherhood, and at worst, a piece of cannon fodder too valuable to be lost.

Did Ray and Jericho view her that way? She was, of course, a valuable asset, a feared warrior, a force of nature, but…a friend? They had mostly spoke about the enemies they faced in Talon Company, Alistair Tenpenny, and now Paradise Falls; they showed concern for her well-being when she was injured, and joked with her in their more light-hearted moments, but did they view her as human Sarah? Or as the weapon that was Sentinel Lyons?

Not that the stoic woman questioned her loyalty to Ray and Jericho, or the Brotherhood; she would always care for them and protect them, even if the price to pay for that protection was her life. But Clover had awaken a longing in the soldier to have more human moments. For as far back as Sarah could remember into her twenty six years, she had been going through grueling training to carve her into the one of the best warriors that the Brotherhood could create; constant drilling, training, exercising, firing practices, sparring matches, and life or death situations. She had been all business and necessity for her entire life; duty would always be her prerogative, but she wouldn't mind having some lighthearted human time every now and then. Keeping a balance between the two would be essential; moderation was important.

The disturbing cacophony of a Super Mutant screaming in pain and rage broke the Sentinel from her reverie. The man motioned for her to duck behind the corner of the building they had just rounded, a mutie lunging toward the two with a gruesome looking Super Sledge gripped tightly in his greasy yellow hands. Sarah ignored the man, scanning the situation unfolding before the duo. They had stepped right into the middle of a war between a scraggly group of Raiders, a larger group of muties, and about three Talons. One of the aforementioned Raiders was barreling towards the man that had claimed Sarah, his skin streaked with his own blood and a bandolier of grenades strapped about his emaciated frame. Sharp emerald eyes focused on the grenades, and she noticed with a start that none of them had pins in them.

"Fucking hell!" She screamed, barreling back around the corner without a second thought. She flew down the sidewalk, her sneakers slapping the concrete and her breath coming heavily. The sounds were lost on her ears as a thunderous explosion sounded from somewhere behind her. No doubt the explosion had killed the man that was, or had been, her owner. If it hadn't, there was no doubt that the mutie's Super Sledge had popped his helmeted head like an overripe melon. The Sentinel tasted freedom, if she could outrun the war raging on behind herself. The sight of the Talons disturbed her greatly; but surely they still couldn't be hunting her? She knew that selling their marks into slavery was not common for the bloodthirsty mercs, so did that mean that they thought she, Ray, and Jericho were dead?

Sarah found herself dashing down alleys and between buildings, her breathing becoming ragged and strained far faster than it would have prior to being trapped in Paradise Falls for so long. Ragged breaths escaped her lungs and she began to regret not keeping up with any sort of fitness during her imprisonment. A muscle in her calf stretched painfully, pulling hard under her skin. Hot pain shot through her leg, causing her to grit her jaw hard, a small whimper of pain trying to escape her, but she bit the sound back and pumped her legs even harder.

She could barely hear over the sound of her own pulse roaring in her ears, but she could faintly make out the sound of heavy boots thundering after herself. The Sentinel pumped her legs harder, soaring around a corner like a bat out of hell, ignoring the inarticulate cries that echoed behind her. She snapped her head back momentarily to check the distance of her pursuer, but they had not rounded the corner yet. Whipping her head back around, she shoved her blonde hair out of her face, only to see a figure standing directly in her path of flight. A gasp escaped the Sentinel's lips, but by the time that her brain had managed to convey the message that there was an obstacle in her path to her legs, she had slammed into the figure with such force that she bowled them both over.

The figure, revealed now to be a strange woman, scrambled away from the Sentinel and jumped to her feet faster than Sarah could blink. "Dumbass! You trying to get yourself killed?" Her voice was low and angry; Sarah stumbled to her feet, mumbling an apology, but her eyes were not drawn to the other woman's face. She was nearly the same height as Sarah, but about two inches taller. A worn black duster with no sleeves showed lightly muscled arms, and Sarah's eyes were drawn to the sleeve of tattoos that covered the woman's left arm. The skin was canvassed in different designs of colors, words, weapons, and intricate designs of strange symbols and spiraling, twisting colors. Near the top of her bicep began a highly detailed tail and clawed feet of black and red; the green ridge that protruded from the top of the tip of the tail continued along the rest of the creature's body until it, and the body, vanished under the woman's clothing.

Finally drawing her emerald eyes up and away from the tattoos on the woman's arm, Sarah looked at the woman; her auburn hair held loose curls and fell just a few inches past her shoulders, but the left side of her head was shaved from where her hair began behind her ear and up to about an inch above her temple. The creature on her tattoo was now revealed to be a dragon, as it snaked up and out of her collar, up her neck, and onto the shaved part of her head. The maw of the dragon hung open, exposing a serpentine tongue and long, sharp teeth; the creature's eyes were wide and wild, the red irises burning into Sarah's.

Her otherwise pretty face was painted with an expression of irritation and confusion. A single pale line of a old scar ran vertically through the middle of her left eyebrow, stopping just short of her eye; another thin, old scar began at the left side of her mouth and went up into a half grin, indicating that someone had attempted to give her a Glasgow Smile and hadn't quite gotten to push the blade all the way through her cheek. The scars were not what shocked the Sentinel however; it was how much this strange woman resembled Ray. Her pale grey eyes may as well have been plucked from Ray's eye sockets and placed in this woman's head, her strong jaw line was distinctly feminine as opposed to Ray's, but she had his high cheeks and perfectly shaped brows.

The woman's pale grey eyes ghosted down to the metal collar at Sarah's neck, and her eyes suddenly softened, her tense posture relaxing slightly. "Are you an escaped slave?" Her voice was low and gentle, like she was concerned that if she spoke too loudly she would scare Sarah away.

The Sentinel shook her head rapidly, suddenly jolting back into reality. "Someone is chasing me; you have to help me get back to Paradise Falls!" She didn't care who this woman was; she looked intimidating, but she was the only friendly face Sarah had seen in what felt like a lifetime. Plus, her resemblance to Ray couldn't be a coincidence; but the man had never mentioned having any relatives.

As if on cue, Sarah's pursuer appeared in the alley, revealing himself to be the Sentinel's owner. His body was heaving with the exertion of sprinting, but still he wore his thick armor and helmet. The filter on his helmet wheezed and crinkled loudly; though his grip on his Scoped .44 was slightly shaky as he kept the barrel trained on the tattooed woman, he strode forward confidently.

The auburn haired woman growled in anger and pulled Sarah behind her with her tattooed arm, pulling her arm up to expose that her right hand was covered with a Deathclaw hand that had been converted into a gauntlet. Her left hand pulled a Silenced 10mm Submachine gun that had been holstered at her hip and trained it on the man's helmeted head. "Back the fuck off, you slaving piece of shit, or I'll put twenty holes in your fucking head."

Sarah looked over the woman's shoulder, noting absentmindedly that a Silenced Sniper and a strange, jury-rigged looking gun that Sarah had never seen before were crisscrossed over her back. The Sentinel contemplated dashing away and leaving her owner to duke it out with this woman, but this strange tattooed woman was likely her only chance at getting away from the man and back to Paradise Falls.

For some reason, the man sighed loud enough to make his mask's filter crackle, before holstering his weapon and dropping to a knee, shouldering off his leather pack as he did so. Sarah and the tattooed woman watched as he quickly dug through the pack before pulling out a thick piece of white chalk. The woman with Ray's pale grey eyes arched an auburn eyebrow as the man turned to an adjacent wall, quickly scratching a sentence onto the brick there. The chalk made dry scratching sounds as it was quickly worked onto the wall in small, elegant scrawl. **'The girl is mine.' **He turned back to the auburn haired woman to stare at her, his eyes hidden and unreadable behind the mask.

A growl came from the tattooed woman's chest. "Don't be a fucking idiot. I don't care how you slavers run shit, but you're all just that; shit. I'm giving you a chance to walk away; if you've got any brain cells you'll fucking take it before I lose my patience with your refusing to talk bullshit."

The man's body language was irritated, and he turned back to the wall to quickly scratch another message, a bit more aggressively this time. **'Silence is not my choice; but ignorance is clearly yours.'**

A humorless chuckle came from the woman's throat. "So you're a mute, but you've still got a fucking smart mouth; how refreshing. Why the hell did you enslave blondie here?" Her finger tensed a bit on the trigger, her pale eyes wide and excited and begging the man to say something she disliked so she could end him.

'**She is special. I've searched for her for longer than it took the wastes to consume my mind and body.' **His posture was suddenly slumped, like an old man that had been beaten down by life so many times that he no longer had the disposition to stand up straight anymore. A strange feeling of melancholy seemed to radiate from him, and before the tattooed woman could ask him what the hell his cryptic message meant, he pulled off one of his gloves, exposing peeling red flesh. The helmet tilted down to look at the skin almost shamefully, and Sarah suddenly felt a wave of sadness wrench at her chest. He pulled the glove back on slowly, the filter on his helmet crackling as he inhaled sharply in pain.

The girl with the dragon tattoo did not relax or lower her weapon. Her expression was hard and unflinching, her upper lip curling slightly at the man. "So what? You want me to feel bad for you because you're a ghoul? I don't know who you're trying to replace, but you would collar this woman that symbolizes whoever you're seeing in her? You would bind her to you against her own will?"

The Sentinel suddenly found her voice, and the gears in her mind began turning rapidly. She gently placed her hand on the woman's tattooed shoulder, making those pale grey eyes turn to meet the Sentinel's of emerald. "Let's all take it down a notch, okay? Maybe we can help each other here; let's start with names. I'm Sentinel Sarah Lyons of the Brotherhood of Steel."

The auburn haired woman relaxed very slightly, before lowering her weapon. She didn't look at the Sentinel or the man, nor did she holster the gun; questions danced behind her cold eyes, but she did not ask them. "Carmen; Commander and Founder of the Black Dragon Mercenary Group." She looked over at Sarah with renewed interest as she realized she was in the Brotherhood.

The helmeted man bowed to the two women before scratching onto the wall with his stub of white chalk, **'Aleksey Sabriv. I must apologize to Sarah for my previous lack of engagement; the past few days have been more difficult than I presumed they would have been in my dreams." **

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, arching an eyebrow at the man.

He rolled his chalk stub in his gloved hand for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words. Stooping down, he pawed through his bag before drawing out a scrap of paper, shiny with layers of scotch tape. Aleksey stared at the paper for a few seconds, before standing and slowly crossing the small distance between himself and the two women.

Hesitantly, as if he didn't quite trust the Sentinel with the square of paper, he handed it to her with a shaky hand. Taking the paper gently and giving the man a smile of reassurance, Sarah brought the scrap of paper up so she and Carmen could see it.

The paper was revealed to be a photograph, the edges bent and slightly burned, of a Pre-War family. The man was tall, with thick dark hair, carefully styled for the photo. His eyes were a shocking shade of blue, pure happiness shining in them. Next to him stood a pretty blonde woman, her skin tan and her eyes a dark green. She smiled, red lipstick coloring her lips brightly, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, as if her mind was far away. Between the couple stood a pretty teenage girl, she had her mother's hair and eyes, but her eyes were much brighter, full of life and joy. She was smiling wide, as if she had been laughing at something just before the picture was taken. Turning the picture over, Sarah recognized the small scrawl as Aleksey's: _**Aleksey Sabriv, 38. Alena Sabriv, 34. Allison Sabriv, 15. **__**Date: May 17**__**th**__**, 2075.**_

"This is you? Before?" Sarah asked gently, pointing to the man in the picture.

His helmet gave a single nod.

"I'm assuming I reminded you of your wife or daughter?" She continued, gesturing to their blonde hair and emerald eyes.

He turned to the wall and began scratching rapidly with the stub of white chalk. _**'Allison. She had started to look exactly like you; she even wanted to be a soldier. Before I failed her. I did not fail Alena though. She failed me far before the world ended. I'm sure she paid for her adultery when the world began to burn around her, and she was with a strange man who did not care for her, instead of her husband and daughter.' **_His scrawl became increasingly large and erratic, his hand flying over the wall with anger as he thought of the woman who used to be his wife.

Carmen placed a hand on his shoulder as he went to scribble more, but her touch made him falter and nearly drop the chalk. "Okay man, dial it back. We've all seen shit and had people betray us. Let's move on."

Aleksey nodded and took his hand away from the wall, shaking hard. He shoved the chalk in his pack and shouldered it back on, turning to face away from the wall.

Carmen looked between Sarah and Aleksey, her pale eyes cold and unreadable. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "So what the hell do we do now, huh? I guess you two go on your way and I wander off to fucking start over again?"

Sarah drew her eyes away from Aleksey and rested on the auburn haired woman, questions about her past brimming in her racing mind. "Start over again?"

Carmen scoffed and drew a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on her duster. Pulling one of the ancient things out, she stuck it between her lips and fished in her pocket again for a small lighter. She inhaled the smoke deeply and blew it out through her nose; the action made Sarah think of Jericho and urgency blanched deep in her chest.

"Yeah; story of my fucking life. I'm 28 years old and I've got shit to show for it. The Black Dragon Mercs were all I fucking had, and every one of them is dead now."

"What happened?"

Carmen took a heavy hit from the cigarette and stared at the wall across from herself with a strangely practiced detachment, like she had had to do it so many times in her life that she just got used to being detached. "I've always ran with mercs. Got fucking raised by 'em ever since my parents abandoned me to some little group. Long story short, they weren't very skilled, and got wiped out by some Raiders when I was eleven. That's how I got these scars; they thought my 'dad' was dead and started trying to torture me, nearly put my eye out before they decided to try to give me a Chelsea Grin instead, but that old bastard wasn't dead. He shot the fucker that was cutting me, right in the back of the head, blew his fucking brains all over me."

She paused, taking another heavy hit of her cigarette. Sarah opened her mouth to give her condolences about the woman's adoptive parents, but Carmen began speaking again. "Dad got me just enough time to grab his machete off the floor and sink it into the last motherfucker's neck. He fell down, shocked that the little girl he was about to rape after his buddy got finished cutting her up, was suddenly burying a fucking machete in his throat. I kept going and going, I didn't stop until his fucking head was severed." Carmen paused again, and Sarah thought she would take a draw from her cigarette but she didn't; she just froze with the cigarette perched almost elegantly between her middle and forefinger, those pale eyes wide and seemingly staring past the brick wall as she relived the gruesome memory.

"By the time I kicked his fucking head across the floor and remembered that my dad was bleeding out a few feet away, he was already dead. I ran to him, but he was gone and his last sight was watching his little girl chop a fucking man's head off, but I like to think he was proud of me for acting quick like he always taught me to."

Carmen paused and blinked a few times, seemingly coming back into reality as she hit her cigarette. "I'm sorry that you had to experience that, Carmen," Sarah said gently, examining the other woman's blank expression.

Carmen gave her a crooked grin before she continued speaking. "Don't worry, I survived, obviously. After that I wandered and learned how to hide, but how to kill people if I needed to. I kept his machete and the 10mm Sub he carried, and mom's sniper," She paused again to trail a finger over the grip of the machinegun at her hip that had been trained on Aleksey a few minutes ago, and to pat the Sniper Rifle that crisscrossed the other strange weapon on her back. "But anyways, long story short, when I was 18 I joined Talon Company."

At that, Sarah's hackles went up and she felt her body tense. This woman worked for the enemy? Did she still inform them? Was she friends with them? Carmen sensed the Sentinel's sudden shift and scoffed slightly. "Relax Blondie. I worked with them until I was almost 20 and they figured out that I had more of a conscience than them. They were fine with massacring this fucking family…kids and everything, right in front of me. They even killed the damn dog, the fucking thing was so old it could barely stand up, and one of them just stomped it to death." She shook her head in disgust before taking the last hit of her cigarette and dropping the butt of it to the dirt and crushing it under her boot heel.

"They were pissed because I refused to participate in killing those innocent people, and one of them reported it to Jabsco. He sent me out on a 'mission' with some prick named Rilon and a few newbies. Well, Rilon wound up shooting me in the leg and leaving me near a fucking Yao Guai den. They assumed I was dead after that."

"I got away, obviously, and things were good for a while. I went back to wandering and when I was 21 I found myself in a bar in Rivet City. Got in a fight with some ex-merc when I was there, and low and behold, that son of a bitch wound up becoming my second in command for the Black Dragons." Carmen paused to laugh and give a genuine smile.

"We came up with the name when we were looking through these old books about tattooing that my mom had. She was always fascinated by it, and was determined to figure out a way to rig up a tattoo gun. She never did; she couldn't even draw a stick-man for shit, and she was terrible with tinkering. Luckily for me, I had both of those skills, so I could make what she was never able to do a reality. Eventually, we met other people and our numbers grew. At our most, there was about fourteen of us; it doesn't sound like a lot, but we were skilled. We didn't take people that didn't know what they were doing, we only took the best and they had to be able to commit; to show that commitment, we all got the Black Dragon tattoo."

Carmen paused, smiling gently as her memories passed behind her pale eyes. "What happened to them all?" Sarah gently put in, taking in the other woman's shift in expression.

The merc commander shut her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall, that detachment coming back to her, a coldness settling over her skin as she compartmentalized her emotions. "We took a contract from this lady. Her husband and son got taken out by Talon Company because the husband went AWOL from them. They tortured her pretty badly, broke her ankle and took out one of her eyes, scarred her face up. Anyway, she survived, and wanted revenge obviously."

She paused, scratching absentmindedly at the tattoo on her head. "We took out the group that did it to her. They were fucking camping out in her old house. Somehow, word got back to Jabsco that I was alive, running my own group and killing his men," she paused to scoff angrily, "well obviously he got his fucking retribution. They attacked last night; killed our watch and all of my men. Of course I survived…don't fucking understand why." Her tone was bitter, and she scowled down at her boots, her upper lip curled in a snarl.

The Sentinel couldn't even imagine that sort of pain. If Lyon's Pride got taken out she wouldn't know how to continue with her life. This tattooed woman was strong; strong enough to keep getting up when life kneecapped her and took everything she cared about. "What do you mean when you say you don't know why you survived? You're strong, you're a survivor. It's what you do."

The merc avoided the Sentinel's eyes, keeping her pale eyes glued to her boots, a sense of hopelessness seeming to drape over her. "Every time I start over, I get it all taken away. I'm tired of starting over. What's the point when it is all going to be destroyed? What's the point of this fucking conversation anyway? We're all just talking about our issues like the fucking camp counselor is here to hug us and tell us that everything will be okay."

Sarah chewed her lip in thought. "I know you're hurting. And Talon Company has caused you unbearable pain. What if I told you that before I was enslaved I was on a mission to take down Talon Company?"

At that, Carmen's eyes widened and came back to life, like a corpse rising from the dead. Her eyes were wild as she looked over at the Sentinel; fidgeting with her 10mm, the merc spoke quickly, "You serious? A chance to take down the Talons with you? Sounds like a fucking suicide mission to me, but I don't give a shit. I'm up for killing as many of those cocksuckers as I can."

Sarah grinned. "Well, it's not just me you'll be fighting beside. I've got people that need my help, back in Paradise Falls. So first thing is first, we have to burn that camp to the fucking ground and free my friends."

Suddenly Aleksey had produced his chalk and was scratching a message. **'I will help you. Perhaps I can redeem my past failures by helping you with this mission before death claims me.' **

"Hell fucking yeah; I agree with Mutie! Who are these others that we are after?" Carmen put in excitedly.

"The slaves, I want them all freed. But I need to ensure that the man with scars, Ray, and the older guy, Jericho, survive. And…Clover; a girl in a pink dress; I have to make sure she makes it as well."

Carmen suddenly grew even more intrigued with the situation, her eyebrow arching at the mention of Ray. A strange smirk pulled across her lips, and for some reason it gave Sarah a wave of malice. "Wait a second. Ray?"

Sarah paused for a moment, the merc's sudden smugness making her stomach roll. "Yeah. He's a waster, but a good guy. A survivor."

The merc smirked a bit wider, her pale eyes flashing, her voice low and smooth. "I would love to help you and Ray take down Talon Company."

Regarding the merc cautiously, Sarah gave her a small grin of her own. She had a strange interest in Ray, but she was a valuable and much needed ally right now. This strange woman would need to be watched closely.


End file.
